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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973827">Orion Complex</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacasilk/pseuds/alpacasilk'>alpacasilk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sunflower Solstice [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Angels &amp; Demons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angel/Demon Relationship, Body Worship, Caretaking, Character Development, Consensual Sex, Dark, Dark Fantasy, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Feeding, Fluff and Angst, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Pining, Post-Coital Cuddling, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shameless!Alfred, Slavery, Slow Burn, Snarky Cat, Stargazing, Suicide Attempt, Sunflower Picnic, Swordfighting, Violence, magical healing, planetarium date, video games - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:01:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973827</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacasilk/pseuds/alpacasilk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After five grueling years, demon general Ivan Braginsky returns from the battlefront to a generous offer: for his loyalty, Ivan will be given one chance to ask for that which he most desires. Spurning wealth and power, Ivan takes Alfred Jones—formidable angel general turned unruly pleasure slave—as his war prize.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>America/Russia (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), hinted past UKUS - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sunflower Solstice [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>234</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please see tags.</p><p>Now with beautiful fanart!<br/><a href="https://i.imgur.com/UuwvLw7.png">Alfred</a> and <a href="https://i.imgur.com/J3qKW3v.png">Ivan</a>, both by the incredible Siriuce</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ivan is tired. Alfred eats strawberries. Francis is doing a great job.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crown tilted rakishly askew, Francis Bonnefoy stroked the golden band on his wrist as he stood in the shadows, watching the fight going on before him. The bangle's appearance belied its true worth: although plain, it was beyond priceless. After all, it was the transformed halo—willingly given, gleaming with pure magic—that granted its possessor the complete, unconditional loyalty of Arthur Kirkland, one of the Light side's most powerful generals. In Francis' hands, it would all but ensure the demons' victory over the forces of Heaven.</p><p>It had not been easy to procure the halo. Angels were notoriously cautious about who they revealed their haloes to, and it was unheard of for any angel to allow another to touch the glowing circlet. The thought that an angel would give it away—let alone to a <em>demon—</em>was ridiculous. A pipe dream.</p><p>But Demon King Francis had made the dream into a reality, and now he had his prize and much more besides. He chuckled as the figure battling Arthur dropped to the ground with a cry. The demons who had been observing from the forest moved to restrain the fallen angel. Francis held up a hand. He'd let Arthur be the one to bind the boy, wanted to see the bitterness and grief in those acid green eyes as he personally delivered his beloved, brilliant once-protégé to a long lifetime of servitude under the demonic reign.</p><p>Francis smirked. He had no need for another angel in his bed—not with Arthur already as his spitfire consort—but Alfred F. Jones was beautiful by any standard, and he could think of quite a few delightful uses for the young general, indeed.</p>
<hr/><p>Francis hummed to himself as he walked through the palace. The day was absolutely stunning through the windows, and a messenger had just arrived with excellent news of the war. Since the capture of one of their last generals six months ago, what remained of the angelic army had more or less scattered to the four winds. Without a competent officer to issue commands and unite the dwindling group, the soldiers were easily picked off.</p><p>The campaign in Heaven was as good as over. In fact, the demon general in charge of the latest efforts would be returning from the battlefront today, and Francis intended to receive him lavishly. Down in the kitchens, the chefs were busy at work. Maids had changed the sheets and carefully gone over every surface of the guest chambers with a fine-toothed comb. Francis had even confirmed that his vaults were filled to the brim. Not only would the general have a magnificent feast and the best of lodgings, but he would leave the palace tomorrow with whatever his heart most desired. If gold was what he wanted, Francis thought smugly, then he would have as much of it as he could take.</p><p>Now, there was just one more matter to attend to…</p><p>"Alfred, dear, where are you?" Francis' call echoed through the halls. A guard in a room down the corridor cracked open the door. Seeing the monarch, he bowed deeply. "Alfred is in here, sir." He held open the door and Francis gave a nod of thanks.</p><p>The demon king brightened immediately when he stepped inside and saw the angel sprawled on the grey divan with a bowl of strawberries in his lap. "No visitors today, <em>mon chéri?"</em></p><p>"Francis, you <em>know</em> your guards can't keep their horny hands off of me," Alfred said, rolling his eyes as he popped a strawberry into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed. "I'm taking a break. My jaw is stiff and my ass hurts." The former officer dropped his golden head over the edge of the divan so that he was looking at Francis upside down. His blue-rimmed glasses slid down a little, but stayed on. "And I'm <em>starving</em>." Slim fingers reached for another strawberry.</p><p>"You're always starving," Francis chuckled. He plopped down next to Alfred, careful to avoid ruffling feathery wings. "Well, don't overexert yourself today. We are in need of your services tonight for a very special guest."</p><p>"Oh?" Alfred examined the strawberry with a critical gaze. "Special guest… Another general, then. Antonio was here last week, so it wouldn't be him." He tapped the strawberry against his lips thoughtfully. "Ludwig? Or is it Gil?"</p><p>"Neither, love. I assume that you're acquainted with our dear General Braginsky?"</p><p>"<em>What</em>." Alfred narrowed his eyes and jolted up. The bowl swayed, though no fruit spilled out. "That bastard Braginsky is coming here?" He hissed.</p><p>"Language, Alfred!" Francis chided. "I do hope that you'll more cordial when you meet with him tonight. He has spent many a harsh evening alone on the battlefield, and is in dire need of your comforts. Won't you put aside your childish animosity towards him for one night?" Maybe Francis was laying it on a bit thick, but Alfred could be so <em>stubborn</em>.</p><p>"Yeah, get bent, Francis. He's cold as fuck, he's a total jackass, and I promised I was going to tear him a new one the last time we saw each other."</p><p>Francis sighed. "I won't pretend I know why you are so against him. But you are familiar with the ancient codes of hospitality, and you know your role in this palace. You have no choice in this matter, Alfred," he said sternly, ignoring Alfred's grimace.</p><p>"You will please General Braginsky tonight, or you will be punished. And besides," he pinched Alfred's cheek before Alfred could swat him away, "you have to earn those strawberries you're so fond of somehow. I will send for maids to freshen you up before tonight comes. In the meantime, I have to look into some last-minute arrangements."</p><p>Before Alfred could even open his mouth to reply, Francis had strode over to the door, hand raised in farewell. "Remember," he spun around to wink at the angel, "be good!" The door closed behind him.</p><p>"…Fuck," Alfred frowned at the berries in his lap, appetite suddenly gone.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan Braginsky—Terror of the North, commander of legions, general extraordinaire—sank into the plush armchair with a steaming mug of chamomile tea and a grateful sigh. The festivities in his honor had yet to begin, and already he was exhausted. He and his men had scarcely entered the place before servants whisked him away to the guest chambers. They would fetch him in a few hours for the feast. Before then, he would take the precious time to rest and relax.</p><p>He tilted his head back in the chair. Dull lavender eyes, disheveled silver locks, and deathly pale skin greeted him. Ivan stared absently at the dark circles under the eyes of his reflection above. Of course Bonnefoy would have a mirror as the ceiling.</p><p>Truth be told, he found the suite ostentatious. Something simple would have been nice, but he doubted that Francis would even hear of it. The demon king practically lived for over-the-top displays—<em>life is meaningless without a touch of hedonism</em>, <em>mon cher, </em>as he would often say. <em>We must indulge in the small pleasures.</em></p><p>And on the subject of pleasures… Ivan's thoughts turned to the companion who would share his bed for the evening. As a host who adhered to the ancient demonic codes, Francis was obliged to provide a bedmate for his most honored guests. It would be an angel: the king made no secret of his partiality towards the fairer species in carnal affairs, having always found the celestial beings' divine glamour beguiling. Ivan hadn't seen any angels around the palace on his way to the chambers, though.</p><p>So who, then, did Francis select for him tonight?</p><p>Certainly not Kirkland, Ivan mused. Bonnefoy was far too protective of his emerald-eyed consort. And the last time that he saw Gilbert, the other demon mentioned that Francis had a new disciple to train in <em>l'art de l'amour. </em>He was having a tough time, Gilbert said, smirking, because this angel was apparently particularly resistant to Francis' methods—obstinate in the way that military types tend to be, according to the monarch.</p><p>It was a soldier, then. Could it be…?</p><p>Ivan settled deeper into the chair and took a long draft of his cooling tea. No. Impossible. The last time that he had spoken to Francis, the king had been quite adamant that Jones be executed. The havoc that the trigger-happy angel wreaked on the demon forces was beyond reprehensible. If not stopped, there was a chance that he could single-handedly win the war for Heaven, or at the very least, stall the demons' advance for several years. There would be no mercy, Francis and Ivan had agreed. He was a problem that needed to be taken care of, and soon. Alfred F. Jones was too dangerous to let live.</p>
<hr/><p>Francis <em>may</em> have had one too many glasses of the excellent Chambolle-Musigny, but there was no mistaking the giddy feeling in his chest for anything other than pleasure at a job well done. The celebrations had gone more smoothly than he had dared dream of. His chefs had truly outdone themselves with the feast—seven courses of scrumptious delicacies that culminated in a sublime croquembouche—and the musicians in the live band were exceptional. He mentally patted himself on the back for including a few of the better vodkas in the alcohol selection: Ivan had even given him a rare smile of gratitude. It had been terrifying, Francis recalled with a shudder.</p><p>Ivan was probably heading to his suite now, ready to retire for the evening. After such a long day, Francis certainly was. He began the short walk to his chambers when a sudden pang of regret hit him: with the bustle of the festivities, he hadn't had a chance to check in with Alfred. But wait! Francis caught the faint scent of apricots and cardamom.</p><p>The tantalizing scent grew stronger, and Francis could see two figures approaching from the other end of the corridor. "Alfred!" Francis cried happily when they came closer.</p><p>Alfred lifted his head, and Francis inwardly crooned in delight. The boy looked <em>ravishing. </em>A touch of rouge to add color to his full lips and emphasize his high cheekbones, a few strokes of liner to make those sapphire eyes pop, a little mascara on those long, curling lashes. The maids had not forgotten to cast a minor spell to enhance his angelic glamour: Alfred's subtle scent was more noticeable, and every inch of his tanned flesh glowed brighter.</p><p>The pleasure slave no longer wore the light white tunic that he had on in the morning. Instead, he was draped in flowing silks, which were cinched with a silver belt to show off his trim waist. Besides the gold enchanted bands around his wrists—carved with runes to restrain his power and magicked to perform a few other functions—the former general was unadorned. Alfred looked very natural, the demon king thought approvingly. Francis had <em>fantastic </em>taste.</p><p>"Hi, Francis," Alfred said. His eyes—clearer and brighter now that they were no longer hidden behind glasses—slid to Francis' left. "Arthur," he said coolly.</p><p>Arthur, trailing several steps behind Francis, nodded in greeting, but said nothing. Alfred and the guard passed by, turned the corner. The smell of apricot and cardamom vanished.</p><p>"Francis," Arthur said, voice low. Francis inclined his head to show that he was listening. "This will not end well. They will tear each other apart."</p><p>"Always such a pessimist, <em>mon amour,</em>" Francis teased. "Have some faith." His tone turned more serious. "I know Alfred, and after so many years, I have a few guesses about Braginsky. If I'm as right as I think I am, then you have nothing to fear. In fact," the corners of monarch's lips quirked upward—"you may even be pleasantly surprised."</p><p>Arthur released a long exhale. "I hope you are, frog. Otherwise, may the gods help us all."</p>
<hr/><p>The duo paused in front of a familiar ornate door. The guard knocked three times. When no one answered, he unlocked the door, pushed Alfred in, and unceremoniously tossed him onto the cream sheets. Alfred flipped himself over and leveled an even stare at the demon. "Still pissed I bit your dick last week, Jacques?"</p><p>"Shut up, slut," Jacques snarled. He snapped his fingers, and fine but unbreakable gold chains shot out from Alfred's enchanted bracelets to wrap around the headboard posts. He grinned cruelly. "I hope Braginsky <em>destroys </em>you."</p><p>"And I hope Francis cuts your pay," Alfred called out as the door slammed. Pouting, the angel nestled into the bed, trying to get comfortable. The room was quiet and dark, lit only by the soft glow of candles scattered around the bed. Alfred looked at the reflections of the flickering lights on the ceiling. This room was one of his favorites in the palace, even though he resented what he had to do in here. The mirror made the space feel infinite, like he was floating. The sensation was the closest that he could come to flying while under Francis' thumb.</p><p>Alfred sighed with longing. He hasn't felt the wind beneath his wings in forever—not since Arthur had struck him down in the forest.</p><p><em>Arthur</em>. Alfred scowled at one of the lights on the ceiling. Whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, the brief encounter with Arthur had left him shaken. His former mentor's betrayal was a wound that still smarted. Alfred used to think that he knew his one-time superior after years spent fighting together. Well, he had been wrong, and he paid dearly for it. If Arthur hadn't done what he did—if he hadn't given Francis his halo and not only abandoned his men, but condemned the angelic forces and Alfred in one fell swoop—then none of this would have happened. Alfred wouldn't be chained to a bed, waiting for the man he despised most in the world to claim him like a good little whore.</p><p>Why did Arthur give his halo to <em>Francis</em>, of all people? Angels couldn't be compelled to give their halos, and the fact that Arthur deliberately chose Francis was something that Alfred just couldn't wrap his head around. Arthur had practically turned his hatred of the monarch into a full-time job, constantly criticizing and mocking everything from the way that Francis wielded his rapier to the way that Francis drank wine. Alfred never figured out how Arthur even knew Francis' preferences when it came to libations. It was probably best not to think about it; the normally uptight angel had no scruples when it came to humiliating the demon king, and Arthur was <em>very</em> good at getting information when he wanted to.</p><p><em>It didn't make any sense</em>. No, there had to have been something else, something that neither Arthur nor Francis were telling him—</p><p>The door cracked open to let in a sliver of light. Alfred shivered as the temperature in the room abruptly dropped. "Well," a deceptively gentle voice murmured. "Look who it is."</p><p>Alfred snapped his head up and met amused lavender eyes with fire in his sapphire glare.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ivan enjoys Francis' hospitality; Alfred discovers Arthur's reasons.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: Rape, mentions of gore</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door shut with a click, and the demon general's tall, broad-shouldered form crossed through the dim space to the bed. Alfred could see the outline of his enormous leathery wings and the glint of candlelight on curved horns, could hear the swish of the scarf that the other always had wrapped around his neck.</p><p>A voice like ice cut through the darkness. "Jones."</p><p>"Braginsky." Alfred's lip curled in disdain. "I was sure that you'd be rotting in a deserted battlefield by now."</p><p>"And I was under the impression that Francis was going to personally execute you, then incinerate your corpse for good measure," Ivan bit back.</p><p>"Yeah, well, if you weren't a complete imbecile, you might have noticed that he changed his mind."</p><p>Ivan ignored the dig at his intelligence and moved to the edge of the bed. He leaned down until a jet-black horn bumped lightly against Alfred's cheek. Besides the vodka on Ivan's breath, Alfred faintly registered a sweet, crisp scent. <em>Huh</em>. So Braginsky smelled like sugar plums, pine, and snow, not like death and bloodshed. Who would have thought?</p><p>"Now, why would he do that?" the demon's whisper was a brush of chilled air that sent a shiver up the angel's spine. "He saw Olympus, the massacre there. We walked through the fields of Abistum together, stepping around the bullet-riddled bodies of my men."</p><p>The whisper grew into a venom-saturated hiss.</p><p>"He remembers the remains of the demon soldiers at Caelum, layered so thick that by the time the morticians showed up and dragged away the ones at the top, the ones buried underneath were unidentifiable, <em>liquid"—</em>Ivan straightened up with a ragged inhale—"all of it <em>your</em> handiwork."</p><p>Alfred raised his chin defiantly at the figure looming over him.</p><p>"You have no one but yourself to blame for your failures, Braginsky," he spat. "My duty was to defend Heaven from demon scum, and I did it. <em>By any means necessary. </em>If you're so torn up about your losses"—his tone turned mocking—"then maybe you shouldn't have invaded in the first place."</p><p>"You are more than a menace, Jones," Ivan snarled as he unbuttoned his coat, unwound his scarf. "You're a <em>monster</em>. You killed soldiers who had already surrendered. You showed men—honorable, good men—no mercy even as they begged for their lives."</p><p>The bed sunk with the general's weight.</p><p>"Maybe Francis was right about keeping you as a harlot. You <em>deserve </em>to be on either your knees or your back for the rest of your pathetic life, serving each and every one of the <em>demon scum </em>who wants a turn with your loose hole."</p><p>The demon's lips stretched into a malicious smirk as he studied his bedmate. Francis always did have an eye for beauty. Long legs, smooth, sun-kissed skin, those fiery eyes that glittered with hatred… Ivan felt himself getting hard.</p><p>"I'm going to <em>relish</em> breaking you in."</p><p>Alfred grunted as he was abruptly flipped over onto his stomach. Strong hands forced apart his legs and Alfred twisted, opening his mouth to protest, when he saw what was behind him and froze.</p><p>Alfred was no stranger to big cocks—maybe he was even a <em>little </em>of a size queen, he hadn't felt an ounce of remorse when he chomped down on Jacques' tiny pecker last week—but…</p><p>"What the <em>fuck</em>, Braginsky? Did your whore of a mother fuck a horse?"</p><p>"Impressed?" Ivan purred. "I've been told it feels larger than it looks."</p><p>Alfred shook his head frantically. "This is not happening. Oh my gods," Alfred's voice was almost hysterical. "I'm going to be ripped apart by Braginsky's horse dick. Francis made me a sex slave so I could be fucked to death. By <em>Braginsky</em>. The guards are going to think it's <em>hilarious </em>when they find my dead body tomorrow—"</p><p>"Jones, <em>shut up</em>," Ivan growled. "Gods, you are so annoying."</p><p>He shoved Alfred's head into the pillow, tightened his grip on the angel's hips, and, with one ruthless thrust, slid in to the hilt.</p><p>Alfred choked on his cry, back arching in pain. His hands clawed futilely at the chains binding him. <em>Cold</em>. Braginsky was impossibly cold. It was as if he had been penetrated to his core by an enormous icicle. Had the maids not so thoroughly prepared him beforehand, had they not stretched him open with two, then three, then four oil-drenched fingers, he would have torn, Alfred realized vaguely.</p><p>He had fallen through the surface of the winter lake, was freezing, was drowning. Battered by a hailstorm from the inside out.</p><p>Alfred's entire body shuddered.</p><p>With a low grunt, Ivan pulled out slightly, then thrust back in, deeper. "You're fucking <em>tight</em>, Jones," he gasped. "Tighter than I expected for a slut."</p><p>He buried his nose in Alfred's silky golden hair, breathed in the intoxicating scent of apricot and cardamom and something more, something fresh and earthy and light.</p><p>Alfred struggled weakly, but Braginsky was unrelenting. He set up a brutal pace, pounding into the lithe body that was now glistening with sweat. Ivan inhaled, once more, of the fresh, earthy scent that he couldn't quite identify.</p><p>It was something excruciatingly familiar, something important. It reminded him, inexplicably, of the fringes of Heaven where Ivan had lurked for almost five years, searching for a chink in the armor in the angelic forces' defense that he could exploit with his soldiers. The temperature in the area just outside of Heaven proper was perpetually subzero, a natural deterrent against invaders.</p><p>That tundra had been both Ivan's prison and refuge—had both offered him respite from the chaos and violence of the battlefield, and served as the theater of the war that he came closest to losing.</p><p>For how many nights had Ivan kneeled in the snow, huddled over a dying flame? How many evenings had he reluctantly accepted the inevitable chill in his bones as he alternatively cursed at and played to the gods for any gap—a single weakness—through which he could slip through and turn the tide of the war?</p><p>And, in turning the tide, Ivan would be granted salvation; he would be allowed to escape the bitter cold and return to his castle, return to the patch of sunflowers that he cultivated by hand in the garden directly underneath the balcony of his chambers. Return to the peaceful, long afternoons of looking up at the cloudless sky from beneath the shadows of his sunflowers. The petals would be swaying in the breeze.</p><p>The demon general gave an involuntary jerk; underneath him, Alfred let out a sharp gasp as Ivan's cock brushed against his prostate. It couldn't be, but it was: Jones smelled unmistakably of his memories of those afternoons. Sunshine and sunflowers, vibrancy and life.</p><p>Those long winter nights at the warfront, when not even the small mountain of fading embers could keep him warm, when only his recollections of afternoons spent in his sunflower garden saved him from becoming yet another cadaver covered in acres of frostbite-blackened flesh. He had been so sure, back then, that his heart would slow in the hours after midnight until it became nothing but a miniature glacier in his chest, and the rest of him would follow. He would be a glacier that snapped into shards at the first rosy streaks of dawn.</p><p>Suddenly overcome, Ivan stifled a sob.</p><p><em>Gods</em>, he wanted to go home. He wanted the war to end, wanted to no longer fear the idea of snowflakes that wouldn't melt on his cheeks. He wanted the ice in his marrow to thaw until the blood in his veins only knew spring and summer, the first few fragrant days of fall. He wanted to sleep under the nodding heads of his sunflowers again, safe and content. He wanted, he wanted, he just wanted—Ivan sped up his final thrusts, slammed into the trembling angel one last time, came in the unbelievable heat with a guttural groan—he wanted to be <em>warm</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>Alfred stirred awake a few hours after dawn. Without his glasses, the sex-mussed hair and disheveled feathers of his reflection on the ceiling were blurry, but the empty spot next to him on the bed was unmissable. Chains no longer restrained him to the headboard; he threw an arm over his face, dug at bleary eyes with the heel of his hand. Sunlight glinted off the enchanted cuff.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, when was the last time he had been fucked like that? It was bad enough that Braginsky was brutish in bed, but he had to have that stupid giant cock, too. Alfred shifted experimentally, then muttered a curse under his breath. It felt like a herd of bison had stampeded across his lower back.</p><p>He'd need painkillers—maybe Francis would be a saint today and slip him a couple of extras. The guards would be unbearable otherwise.</p><p>"Oy, Jones, get up!" Great. Alfred glared upwards, meeting the blue smudge of his own resentful gaze. Here comes Jacques.</p>
<hr/><p>Francis stared at the demon who stood before him in the throne room.</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>"<em>Da</em>."</p><p>"Very well," Francis said slowly, "I am a man of my word. I promised you a boon, and if that is what you most desire, then I shall fulfill your request. The necessary preparations will be made. All will be ready by the time that you leave."</p><p>"I am grateful." Ivan bowed his head, then straightened and turned around to leave.</p><p>"General Braginsky," Francis called as Ivan reached the door.</p><p>"My king?"</p><p>"You may do with him as you will, but you are not to kill him. His life remains under my protection, even as his body is yours."</p><p>"Yes, sir."</p><p>"And one more thing: a warning. Do not be careless. Do not let your guard down. You are one of my finest officers. I would be displeased to hear that you have been injured or otherwise… indisposed."</p><p>Ivan bowed his head again. "I will exercise caution, my king."</p><p>The door closed behind the shadow of leathery wings.</p><p>Francis stroked his chin in thought. Ivan's request had been surprising, certainly—from what he had heard, the general was not an impulsive man. He made decisions only after a significant amount of consideration, examined issues from all possible angles, planned for contingencies with a fervor that bordered on obsession. His penchant for strategy had doubtlessly played a major role in his success at the outskirts of Heaven.</p><p>Yet Ivan had chosen the bed slave that he spent a single evening with over untold material riches, over the opportunity to expand his influence, over something tangible that would cement his legacy and power in the demon kingdom and its history.</p><p>Had Alfred somehow managed to tap into the sentimental streak that Braginsky concealed so well behind his frozen exterior? From years of observing the man, Francis knew that it existed, although he would not be so bold—nor so foolish—as to speculate as to how deeply it ran.</p><p>Or, Francis mused, Ivan might have simply wished to crush the boy, to see the golden once-general broken and submissive at his feet. The monarch almost chuckled at the thought. If the latter were the case, Braginsky had his work cut out for him.</p><p>"Well, at any rate," Francis murmured to himself, rising from the throne. "Alfred will be livid." Perhaps dear Arthur could be so kind as to break the news. Or, if Arthur were not feeling particularly amicable, perhaps he could be <em>persuaded</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>"What did you say? I must have not heard right."</p><p>Arthur closed his eyes, massaged his temples, and sent a quick prayer to the gods above for just a smidgen more of patience.</p><p>"You have a new master, lad," he bit out. "I have told you this three times now. General Braginsky has requested you as a reward for his years of service. You will be leaving with him today. The guards will be coming by to collect you soon."</p><p>Alfred's eyes narrowed behind blue frames. "If this is some sort of a sick joke, it's not funny, man."</p><p>"I assure you, I am completely serious," Arthur sighed. "I am as dismayed by the situation as you are, but, unfortunately, neither of us has any say in the matter. Francis did promise Braginsky anything that he desired, and what he desires is apparently you, Alfred."</p><p>"I didn't even <em>do </em>anything last night," the golden blond scowled darkly. "Sure, I goaded him on a little, but I didn't bite him or try to kick him or anything, and now"—he slumped backwards into the divan—"I'm going to have that iceberg shoved up my ass every night for the rest of time. <em>Gods</em>, what did I ever do to deserve this?"</p><p>Arthur's fine features softened. "There, there, poppet," he said, sympathy heavy in his voice. It truly pained him to see his former protégée so distraught—Arthur had practically raised the boy, had taught him all that he knew about warfare and everything besides. There was a time when Alfred was the only thing that kept him grounded through the years of bloodshed and violence. As much as it hurt, Arthur couldn't be indifferent to Alfred's agony.</p><p>"Alfred," the green-eyed angel started again, "I can't say for certain that you won't be injured, but Braginsky will not kill you. Even in his care, you will be safe—"</p><p>"<em>Safe</em>?" Alfred repeated incredulously, sitting up. "Yeah, I'm sure I'll be real safe trapped with that pipe-wielding maniac in his doom castle."</p><p>The younger angel let out a bitter bark of laughter.</p><p>"I stopped being safe the second I was dragged into the Underworld and cuffed with those enchanted bands, Arthur. And you know what? This whole mess happened because of <em>you</em>. I stopped being safe the moment you gave Francis your halo and turned your back on your own people, you <em>traitor</em>."</p><p>Arthur seethed.</p><p>"You don't know what you're talking about, Jones," he spat. "You don't know how many demons would gladly tear you limb from limb if they had the chance. You have no idea what you've done, with your proclivity for shooting first and thinking later. You don't know what it cost me, what I had to do before I could convince Francis to extend his protection over you, to grant you a sheltered life as a pampered bed slave instead of allowing you to be simply ripped apart by the demonic hordes—"</p><p>"Wait," Alfred interjected sharply. "What do you mean, 'what it cost'?"</p><p>"I did not wish to tell you this, but you are being so <em>difficult </em>right now." Arthur closed his eyes again, dragged a hand down his face. "<em>Damn</em> Francis for Compelling me to have this conversation," he grumbled.</p><p>His emerald eyes snapped open and pinned Alfred to where he sat.</p><p>"I gave Francis my halo in exchange for your life."</p><p>Alfred froze. "You <em>what</em>?" He whispered.</p><p>Arthur nodded, expression grim. "Francis would not consider anything else. I offered everything I had, everything I could give"— he swallowed hard, looking away—"and he rejected it all, save for my halo. My halo was the only thing that he saw as equivalent in value to your life."</p><p>"So you gave it to him," Alfred said hollowly.</p><p>"I could not let you die."</p><p>Alfred opened his mouth, but before he could ask Arthur the question on the tip of his tongue—"<em>Why</em>?"—the doors to the room burst open, revealing Jacques and another guard.</p><p>"All right, Jones," Jacques drawled. "Time to go. We're here to escort you to your new master."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alfred makes for a poor prisoner, and Ivan's patience runs thin.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: Rape, violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Arthur gave Francis his halo so that Francis would spare Alfred's life.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Francis controls Arthur's magic and power because of him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because of Alfred, Heaven will lose the war.</em>
</p><p>"You are being very quiet, Jones," his new master observed from the other side of the carriage. "What happened to the mouthy brat from last night?"</p><p>"Fuck off, Braginsky," Alfred said absently. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit right now."</p><p>The demon general narrowed his eyes, but did not say more.</p><p>Alfred tucked his wings around himself, then curled up into a ball and buried his head in his knees. <em>What a fucking mess</em>.</p><p>The rest of the carriage ride passed in silence.</p>
<hr/><p>"Get up. We're almost here."</p><p>Alfred looked up from where he had been wallowing in self-loathing for the past few hours.</p><p>Outside the carriage window, a colorful, domed building came into view. It was a magnificent structure, he acknowledged reluctantly—perhaps not as elaborate as Francis' palace, but there was a frigid, austere beauty to it.</p><p>Or, Alfred shivered, that could have just been the chill that pervaded the air. The Northern Territories were mired in winter for at least nine months a year, Francis had mentioned once. Alfred had said that it sounded like torture, and Francis had chuckled.</p><p>Well, Alfred certainly didn't feel like laughing now as he took in the scene outside the window. In his silk tunic and delicate sandals—more fitting for lounging about in the sunshine than traipsing about in the snow—Alfred felt woefully underdressed.</p><p>If Ivan noticed the angel's light trembling, he didn't comment. Instead, the general stalked off of the carriage the moment it came to a stop before heavy golden doors. The doors creaked open; Alfred saw a mousy-looking brunet duck out from behind them and greet the tall demon as he walked into the castle.</p><p>Alfred heaved a sigh and untangled his limbs. He was probably meant to follow in Ivan's wake. Maybe it would be warmer inside?</p>
<hr/><p>No such luck, Alfred thought morosely as he trailed behind his new master. The cold wasn't completely unbearable inside the castle walls, but he could still see the faint outline of his breath.</p><p>He'd get used to it—he wouldn't show any weakness to <em>Braginsky</em>, of all people. If that asshole was fine with it, then Alfred was fine with it. In fact, he was more than fine with it! Alfred nodded to himself. Heroes <em>loved </em>the cold!</p><p><em>Y-yeah</em>.</p><p>The general in front of him halted at a set of mahogany doors, and Alfred's eyes widened when he saw the room that they opened into. Spacious and opulent, the room—slightly warmer than the rest of the castle—was furnished with pieces carved from rich woods. In the fireplace next to which a luxurious rug was spread, a fire crackled merrily. Abundant sunlight poured in through enormous bay windows, highlighting dust motes and the fibers of the red velvet finish on the elegant settee and armchair. Two boxes, one long and flat and the other large and round, rested on a round table near the windows.</p><p>"Ah, Toris must have had a servant unload the carriage," the demon murmured as he inspected the boxes. "These are your personal effects, Jones. Francis gave them to me." He took out a small copper key from the pocket of his military coat and unlocked the flat box.</p><p>A divine light instantly emitted from the inside. Alfred gasped. <em>His sword</em>. He hadn't seen it since his capture. Striding over, Alfred reached for the Light-forged blade, only to have his hand slapped away.</p><p>"<em>Nyet</em>," Ivan said sharply. He examined the contents of the box for a minute more—a neatly folded uniform and dog tags, besides the sword—before closing the lid and turning to the other box.</p><p>"Oh?" He raised a silver eyebrow as he took in the array of carefully-labeled creams, oils, jarred spells, and makeup. "I don't recall you carting <em>this</em> around the battlefield," he said, amused.</p><p>Alfred flushed in embarrassment. "Shut up, bastard. There's no way in Tartarus I'm putting any of that shit on for <em>you</em>."</p><p>Silently, he sent an apology to Emma and Lucille—he didn't even get to say goodbye to his favorite maids at the palace—for badmouthing the fruits of their hard labor. It had taken hours for them to get the spell for upping his glamour right, and some of the creams had taken literal <em>weeks</em> to perfect. He loved those creams, but he'd die before he told Braginsky that.</p><p>The bastard was still looking at Alfred with that terrible amused expression.</p><p>"Take what you want, Jones. Don't be shy. They're yours<em>, </em>after all."</p><p>Alfred crossed his arms and glared meaningfully. Ivan stared back.</p><p>"Really. You want me to look away?"</p><p>Alfred glared harder.</p><p>"Fine," Ivan grumbled, but turned around. "I think I might actually prefer you on the battlefield. You didn't give a shit when you were caked in blood and grime."</p><p>"Yes, well, times have changed," the angel said drily as he plucked a few of his most treasured creams from the box and slipped them into his tunic. He wouldn't primp himself for Braginsky, but Alfred <em>liked</em> looking good. He was vain—so what?</p><p>Biting his lip in thought, he snagged a bottle of unscented oil as well. Braginsky probably wouldn't bother preparing him, and he didn't particularly look forward to being torn apart by that massive cock.</p><p>"Hey, Braginsky," Alfred suddenly peered at Ivan. "You could use a few of these yourself. You look <em>awful." </em>He couldn't be sure—the demon's back was to him—but from the few glimpses that he'd caught on the way to the room, the war had not been kind to the other general.</p><p>Ivan spun around, confirming Alfred's suspicions. Wasn't his face chubby at some point? There was no baby fat now, only sunken eyes and a nose that jutted prominently out of a gaunt face.</p><p>"No need, Jones," Ivan said cheerfully. "I'm not a whore who's been spoiled rotten by the very foes I swore to kill."</p><p>Alfred bristled. He wasn't proud of what he had to do in Francis' palace, had hated himself for doing it, actually, but—<em>Arthur gave Francis his halo for Alfred's life</em>.</p><p><em>Heaven's gonna lose the war because of him</em>.</p><p>"Fuck you. I'll make you regret bringing me here if it's the last thing I do, <em>master</em>," Alfred sneered. "I will make your life <em>miserable</em>."</p>
<hr/><p>"Ah, Master Braginsky?" The door to Ivan's office cracked open.</p><p>The general glanced up from the report he had been reading. "What is it, Toris?"</p><p>The brunet shifted nervously. "Mister Alfred tried to escape again."</p><p>"…And what was his ingenious plan this time?"</p><p>"He tried to walk out of the front gates this morning, Master Braginsky."</p><p>"He tried to walk out of the front gates. <em>This</em> <em>morning</em>. While all of the guards were on duty." Ivan felt a headache coming on.</p><p>"Mister Alfred seemed convinced that it would have worked, had the guards not seen his wings."</p><p>Ivan set down his paperwork, pushed back from his desk, and stormed back to his quarters, one hand reaching for the pipe perpetually stowed in his coat.</p>
<hr/><p>Alfred was batting his eyelashes at a guard when the platinum blond entered the suite.</p><p>"Jones," Ivan ground out, "have you learned nothing from your last escape attempt, when you tried to seduce the guard whose brother you murdered in cold blood?"</p><p>"Nope!" The angel chirruped with an infuriating grin. Ivan waved his hand to dismiss the guard, who scurried away gratefully.</p><p>"A week ago, you flirted with Toris, my Head Housekeeper, to get him to defy my <em>direct orders </em>and allow you out. That was followed by your asinine attempt to escape by stealing a maid's uniform from the laundry. You planned to leave through the servants' entrance. You failed when you got distracted by apples in the kitchen and Toris spotted you. Two days ago, you made that spectacularly foolish break for freedom with the guard. He nearly shot you. Now, I hear that you tried to escape by walking out of the castle in <em>broad daylight</em>."</p><p>Ivan slammed his pipe on the floor next to the armchair that Alfred sat on.</p><p>"How in <em>Tartarus</em> were you a general? Are you really this dumb, Jones?"</p><p>Alfred frowned, an offended expression on his face. "Hey, it totally would have worked! If you look confident enough, no one will stop you!"</p><p>"<em>Everyone here knows that you are my prisoner."</em></p><p>Ivan leaned back and massaged the bridge of his nose. He should have accepted Francis' offer of endless wealth. Gold wouldn't have tried to run away in the stupidest ways imaginable.</p><p>"All right, Jones." Ivan snatched Alfred's wrist and started to drag him in the direction of the bedroom. "You know what's next."</p><p>Alfred resisted—Ivan could feel him pulling back—but his abnormal strength was diminished by the golden bands around his wrists, and Ivan was far from weak. He unlocked the door and threw the angel bodily onto the cream and silver bed, then clicked his fingers. Chains instantly bound Alfred to the bedposts of the headboard.</p><p>Francis knew what he was doing when he had the bracelets enchanted, Ivan mused as he undressed to prevent blood from splattering on his clothes. They had proven to be remarkably useful. For one, they stopped Jones from bringing his arms down to protect himself as Ivan brought the pipe down on his ribs.</p><p>Alfred smirked. "Is that the best you can do, Braginsky?" He taunted. "You're losing your touch."</p><p>Ivan growled and swung his pipe again, this time aiming for the angel's right wing. Alfred laughed even as the sound of a sickening crack filled the room and blood spotted his feathers. "No wonder your men were so easy to mow down, if their commander was this <em>weak</em>."</p><p>The demon dropped the pipe at the side of his bed. The scowl on his face abruptly transformed into a saccharine smile.</p><p>"Oh, Alfred," Ivan cooed, "you're such a charmer. You know <em>exactly</em> what to say to get me to want to rip you to pieces."</p><p>Alfred stiffened as strong hands wrapped around his throat, but the cocky smirk stayed on his lips. "Anything for you, babe."</p><p>"I should leave you chained to the bed, so you can't make yet another foolish break for it. Or," the platinum blond looked thoughtful, "I should just toss you to the barracks and let my men have at you. It'll be hard to escape with a cock up your ass all hours of the day, and some of them hold <em>quite </em>a grudge against you."</p><p>Ivan hummed. "But you'll probably just end up enjoying it too much… Oh!" His violet eyes lit up. "I'll clip your wings! That way, you won't be able to get far, even if you do end up escaping!"</p><p>Alfred's eyes flashed. Was that fear Ivan saw? It dissipated as quickly as it came.</p><p>"You wouldn't <em>dare</em>, Braginsky. I'll tear out your fucking throat."</p><p>Giggling at the empty threat, Ivan tightened his grip and settled between the angel's legs.</p><p>Without his magic, Alfred was like a declawed house cat, pretty to look at and utterly harmless. Well, maybe less than a pet, Ivan amended in his head. A pet was good for companionship, sometimes stress relief, and Jones was infuriating on the best of days. He was only really good for <em>one </em>thing.</p><p>The head of his cock prodded Alfred's entrance, then pressed into the slick heat.</p><p>Alfred tensed briefly before he forced himself to relax. The large hands around his throat had moved to tangle themselves firmly in his hair.</p><p>"Such a good little whore, Alfred," the demon praised lowly. "Always stretched and oiled, ready for my cock. You were just <em>waiting</em> for me to get angry, weren't you?"</p><p>He drove his hips forward sharply.</p><p>Alfred grunted as he was filled. It wasn't the first time Braginsky had fucked him like this—the beating and what followed was practically routine after each of his escape attempts—but the sudden shock of having the cold penetrate him so deeply hasn't faded.</p><p>The harsh tugging at his cowlick, though, was new.</p><p>An unbidden moan slipped out of Alfred's throat.</p><p>Ivan's eyes widened and the angel silently cursed himself. "Alfred," he murmured, "are you <em>enjoying </em>this?"</p><p>Alfred sank his teeth into his tongue and spat a mouthful of blood at the demon atop him.</p><p>Ivan wiped it off with a sweet smile. "Who could have guessed that the ruthless General Jones was a perfect slut?" He marveled. "My other bedmates have all lain bleeding and broken after I've gotten upset, but you were made for being fucked, Alfred. You're the only one who has taken my cock like this and moaned for <em>more</em>." He gave a particularly harsh thrust into the warm body underneath his.</p><p>"Do you think about my cock filling you when you stretch your slutty hole open for me? When you pour oil on your fingers, do you think about how much you <em>want </em>this?"</p><p>Alfred snarled, showing his teeth. "<em>Fine</em>, take me dry next time, you bastard," he snapped. "See if I fucking care."</p><p>Ivan laughed, high-pitched and soft. He could feel an orgasm building in his lower belly, and reached for the pipe that he had left at the base of the bed.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan put down the last of the reports and sighed in relief. After taking care of the… minor angelic problem, he had returned to his office with a full bottle of vodka. Ivan hadn't opened it—he did not have room for error when it came to work—but the temptation was gnawing at him. Had been gnawing at him. He slid open a drawer of his oak executive desk to grab a tumbler.</p><p>Pouring himself a generous glass, Ivan leaned back in his chair. He'd have to remember to ask Toris to replace the headboard. Was it the fourth one already?</p><p>The demon frowned. Maybe he should get a metal headboard this time; Jones was feisty, and a fifth headboard seemed a bit excessive, considering that fewer than two weeks had gone by since he had acquired the rival general.</p><p>A long sip of vodka chased those thoughts out of his mind. It was time for Dostoevsky.</p>
<hr/><p>Being Braginsky's prisoner must be the dullest thing in the world, Alfred reflected glumly as he watched the clouds float by overhead. All he could do was wander around the freezing grounds, and only the area near the pond and sunflower garden were marginally inviting. At least at Francis' palace there had been the maids to talk to and the guards to mess with. Sometimes they even slipped him a book or two. But Ivan kept his library locked, and the bookshelves in his suite were lined solely with depressing Russian novels.</p><p>Besides drinking atrocious amounts of vodka, doing paperwork, and poring over <em>Crime and Punishment </em>like it held the secret to life, the demon general did nothing except get pissed over Alfred's escape attempts. What a ray of sunshine, Alfred thought sardonically.</p><p>Worst of all, Braginsky either didn't know the first thing about caring for an angel, or was being intentionally malicious. Alfred hadn't eaten in almost two weeks—his captor gave him nothing but strange Russian food, which he never touched. Toris took away what Alfred didn't throw out without a word.</p><p>His stomach rumbled, as if on cue.</p><p>"Shut up," Alfred told it crossly.</p><p>Fat chance he was mentioning anything about it to Braginsky. Sure, his rate of healing was slowed down and he was losing weight, but he was a <em>hero</em>, and heroes would rather feel the dull ache of pain and shed a few pounds than show their demonic masters any sign of weakness. Alfred would starve, and he'd do so happily if it meant not seeing that bastard's ugly mug for a second longer than he had to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Still a few more chapters until they start being nicer to each other ;-;</p><p>Say hi to me on tumblr! Username is the same.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ivan loses his temper and Alfred gains his resolve.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Rape</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alfred twisted away from him on the bed, as the angel did every evening. His wrists were restrained, but Ivan had allowed the chains to gain some slack. The scent of apricot and cardamom, which tended to flare up whenever Alfred was agitated, was becoming subdued.</p><p>There was a fragility to the former general in his bed that Ivan had never seen on the battlefield. In the moonlight, Alfred seemed ethereal, untouchable.</p><p>Well, almost untouchable, Ivan noted with a slight frown. Alfred's throat was still ringed with bruises from last week, and the bites that Ivan had left along the curve of his neck several days ago were just beginning to fade from purple.</p><p>Shouldn't they have healed already?</p><p>During the war, there had been rare occasions when something got close enough to scratch Jones. He was always pristine by the morrow, Ivan's horrified spies had informed him.</p><p>The enchanted bands were supposed to inhibit Alfred's strength and magic, yes, but not his body's naturally prodigious ability to heal.</p><p>Ivan inched closer, curious. His sharp eyes caught the shadows of fingerprint bruises on Alfred's back, shallow gouges left by Ivan's nails scattered around the base of his wings and spine. Alfred was lithe the first night that Ivan had him. Under the glow of the moon, however, the bumps of the angel's vertebrae stood out starkly.</p><p>Ivan's frown deepened. Was Alfred eating? It was too late to investigate tonight; he would keep a close eye on the other tomorrow.</p><hr/><p>Odd—Ivan was usually gone by the time that Alfred woke up. Today, Alfred had felt the chill of that violet gaze on him all morning. Braginsky was on to him, probably, but if he nestled up on the ledge of the bay windows and didn't get up, Ivan couldn't see him limping or wincing.</p><p>The food was an issue, though. He couldn't send it back without Ivan noticing; he'd have to get rid of it somehow.</p><p>No sign of weakness. He wouldn't show Braginsky any weakness at all.</p><hr/><p>Alfred was purposefully keeping a low profile, Ivan was sure of it. The blue-eyed blond hadn't shifted from his spot on the windowsill for hours, and the kasha that was his breakfast had long grown cold.</p><p>Was Alfred waiting for something?</p><p>Toris knocked at the door of Ivan's suite. A minute later, he entered with a tray for lunch. Ivan nodded his thanks, briefly putting aside his paperwork to accept the olivye, borscht, and golubtsy, along with a mug of chamomile tea. Toris set down a platter of pelmeni next to Alfred and dipped to pick up the kasha.</p><p>"That's all right, Toris," Alfred said, "I'll have it later."</p><p>Toris straightened. "As you wish, Mister Alfred."</p><p>"Thanks!" Alfred grinned. "And I told you before, just Alfred is fine."</p><p>Toris answered with a small smile of his own and left.</p><p>Time passed. Ivan leisurely finished his golubtsy and stacked the empty plates onto the tray. Alfred hadn't moved a muscle.</p><p>"Alfred," Ivan said, "why are you not eating?"</p><p>"I lose my appetite when I'm in the same room as you." Alfred stood up, taking the plates with him. "I'm going to have lunch outside. Don't bother following me."</p><p>He swayed as he rose, but quickly caught his balance and walked out of the chambers.</p><p>Ivan didn't react. When the sound of Alfred's footsteps disappeared, he headed to the balcony in his bedroom, unlocked the French patio doors, and flew outside to hide before Alfred arrived.</p><hr/><p>Humming softly to himself, Alfred picked apart another pelmen and flicked the meat-and-onion filling into the open mouth of a large fish. He smiled at the crowd of awaiting carp. They ate <em>everything</em>. They had demolished the kasha in seconds, and they were making quick work of the Russian dumplings. Ivan must not feed his fish enough, Alfred thought disapprovingly.</p><p>The pelmeni were almost gone when Ivan stepped out of the shadow of the trees.</p><p>"Why are your meals being eaten by fish, Jones?" The demon's eyes were violet slits, and the air was positively frigid.</p><p>Alfred tensed. Ivan was <em>furious</em>.</p><p>"None of your business."</p><p>"I should think it is, seeing as I'm the one providing them to you." Ivan snatched up and chewed the last two pelmeni before Alfred could chuck them into the pond.</p><p>"You're coming with me." Ivan threw the angel over his shoulder easily and, with a few flaps of his leathery wings, returned to his chambers. Dropping Alfred—who quickly put a hand to the wall to steady himself—Ivan closed and locked the glass doors of the balcony with a brass key.</p><p>"I didn't do anything wrong," Alfred said, scowling.</p><p>Ivan backhanded him across the face. The force of the slap sent Alfred to the floor. He brushed his fingers against his already-bruising cheek, stunned.</p><p>"People <em>starved</em> during the war, you wasteful brat." Ivan was shaking with rage. "Do you know how many times we ran low on rations? How many of my own men died of hunger in that accursed tundra? I found and counted their emaciated corpses every day, Jones," he snarled. "They were barely more than skin stretched over bones when they died."</p><p>Ivan was unbuttoning his military coat now. With rough hands, he pulled Alfred up by the roots of his hair until he was kneeling at the demon's crotch.</p><p>"If you won't eat the food that I give you, then you'll drink my cum." Braginsky's voice was ice. "Bite me, and I'll break your jaw." He shoved his hardening cock against Alfred's full lips, which reluctantly parted.</p><p>Ivan groaned as his cock was enveloped by the hot mouth. The sight of his sworn enemy on his knees before him, sapphire eyes gleaming with resentment, sent a jolt of electricity straight to his loins.</p><p>Ivan rammed his cock down Alfred's throat until the angel's nose was buried in platinum curls.</p><p>The angel spluttered briefly, but didn't choke. Instead, he relaxed his throat and swallowed. Ivan's eyes rolled to the back of his head at the sensation. He was impressed despite himself—Francis had trained Jones <em>very </em>well, if he could take Ivan without gagging. Did Alfred even have a gag reflex?</p><p>But no, this was punishment, not something for the spoiled slut to enjoy. Ivan clutched the angel's cheekbones—jostling his glasses—and began to brutally fuck his throat.</p><p>Beneath him, Alfred struggled to adjust to the sudden change in pace. He could feel the muscles in his throat protesting. He glanced up. <em>Braginsky was actually insane</em>, Alfred realized with a start. His captor's violet eyes were devoid of anything but cruelty.</p><p>The freezing organ in his mouth stilled, and hot liquid spurted out. Alfred coughed as he gulped down the semen.</p><p>When no more came, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, picked himself up, and <em>glowered.</em></p><p>"Gods, you're such an <em>asshole</em>," Alfred hissed out hoarsely, seething. "Don't you know that angels can't eat anything in the Underworld except for fruit?"</p><p>Ivan's brow furrowed as he tucked himself away. "What?"</p><p>"You can't <em>really</em> be this stupid, Braginsky. Are you playing dumb to mess with me? All of the food produced in the Underworld contains dark magic that's toxic to angels. Something about the sugars in fruit neutralizes the dark magic, but anything else is like poison to us. It causes terrible indigestion if consumed, and could even be lethal!"</p><p>Ivan's eyes widened at the new information. The bruises that hadn't vanished, the way that Alfred winced when he thought Ivan wasn't looking—things suddenly made a lot more sense. Alfred was healing so slowly due to malnutrition. And the escape attempt that failed because he was distracted by apples… Ah, Alfred must have been ravenous, but was too proud to show it.</p><p>A few more pieces of the puzzle came together in his mind. For a while, Ivan had been wondering why the former general looked so different; the last time that he saw Jones at the battlefront, he had filled out his uniform with broad shoulders and bulging biceps.</p><p>In the months since, he had clearly lost weight, becoming toned and slender where before he had been bulky and solid. There was a fresh delicacy to his features, a certain type of sylphlike grace to his movements. If Alfred had truly been eating nothing but fruit since his capture—well, that would definitely explain it.</p><p>Ivan had been surprised that night in Francis' palace when he saw Alfred. After having the angel in his castle and observing him at close quarters, he was even more surprised at how comfortable Alfred was in this body. He had yielded to his circumstances in the Underworld with a startling lack of resistance.</p><p>Except…</p><p>"Why didn't you say anything before you starved for almost half a month?" Ivan asked sharply.</p><p>Alfred huffed and looked away.</p><p>Ivan kneaded his temples with his fingertips when it became evident that Alfred would not reply. "What kinds of fruit should I get?"</p><p>"I don't care, just whatever is seasonal," Alfred gave a half-hearted shrug. "I like strawberries."</p><p>"It's not strawberry season here, Jones. It will never be strawberry season here. The climates in the Northern Territories are not suitable for growing them."</p><p>"Francis had a greenhouse for Arthur and me."</p><p>"I am not constructing an <em>entire greenhouse</em> just to satisfy your inane cravings. You will eat whatever my servants find at the local market."</p><p>With that, Ivan made a beeline for the cellarette, where he grabbed three unopened bottles of vodka to drink alone in the quiet dark of his office.</p><p>Jones was absolutely <em>insufferable</em>.</p><hr/><p>Alfred was pretending to be asleep when Ivan entered the bedroom. Even curled up under the sheets, the angel shivered at the abrupt drop in temperature.</p><p>Ivan <em>reeked </em>of vodka. Slowly, so that Ivan wouldn't catch the movement, Alfred tilted his head to sneak a peek at the general.</p><p>Alfred swallowed. Braginsky was really drunk and really, <em>really </em>angry.</p><p><em>At least he doesn't have that damn pipe in his hand</em>.</p><p>"Jones, I know you're awake," Ivan's speech was slurred, heated. "You are <em>such</em> a pain in my ass. You come to my castle, make all those dumb escape attempts, waste my food, and then you have the <em>gall </em>to be so tight-lipped about the <em>basic fact</em> that you haven't eaten for <em>half a month</em>."</p><p>He fell heavily on top of Alfred and pinned his wrists to the headboard with his huge hands.</p><p>"I didn't ask to be here," Alfred spat.</p><p>Ivan continued as if he hadn't spoken. "What <em>is </em>it with you and your obsession with defense? You are so needlessly defensive about <em>every single fucking thing</em>, Jones. You're always overdoing it. You had a knack for overdoing it during the war, too."</p><p>Ivan shook his head in frustration. Alfred heard the sound of a zipper. <em>But Braginsky hadn't even taken off his coat, so what</em>—</p><p>Alfred's lips parted in a silent scream as Ivan took him without any preparation. The pain was <em>agonizing</em>. He hadn't used the oil since that last time he tried to escape, since Ivan had taunted him; had borne the pain, which had been barely tolerable, every night since. But <em>why</em> hadn't he at least stretched himself tonight?</p><p>He hadn't expected Braginsky to want him, not after the throat-fucking. He hadn't planned for the worst. Alfred could feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.</p><p>He was such a <em>fool</em>. The harsh fabric of the coat pressed against his ass as Ivan plunged into him.</p><p>"You had such a nasty habit of shooting on sight, you know. You killed so many demon soldiers," Ivan was rambling now. "Jones, they were my men—I trained them, led them, fought with them. I had to pen the letters home to their families, informing mothers and wives and daughters that their sons and husbands and fathers were dead. Because of a bullet from <em>you</em>. An excessive, <em>unnecessary </em>bullet, all because you're some kind of sick freak who can't stand having anything outside of your control. You keep it all bottled up and nicely preserved inside, and destroy everything outside of your perfect little world."</p><p>Ivan's fingers dug into Alfred's shoulders.</p><p>"Contrary. Ignorant. Egotistical. <em>Brat</em>." The demon punctuated each word with a forceful thrust. Alfred felt his passage tearing. Ivan had never fucked him so hard that he bled before. He let out a low whimper as Ivan released inside him. It <em>stung</em>.</p><p>Vaguely, he could feel that the sheets were wet beneath his cheeks, and bit his lip. Alfred had promised himself, back when he had been first dragged into Francis' palace to become a pleasure slave, that he'd never cry in front of his tormentors because of sex, no matter how painful. Being hurt was one thing, but <em>showing</em> that he was hurt was another. He would never show weakness to the demons who owned him.</p><p>Well, he thought deliriously, there goes that. One hard fuck, courtesy of his worst enemy, and he was done.</p><p>He wasn't even capable of keeping that one simple promise—couldn't even trust himself to keep one<em> single </em>promise—so why the fuck did <em>Arthur</em> trust him so much?</p><p>Arthur believed in him. Arthur believed in him enough to save his life. Arthur believed in him enough to give his halo to the <em>monarch</em> of the demons<em>, </em>believed in him enough to give up the war for him, and believing in someone enough to sacrifice everything was kind of like trusting someone, right?</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Artie, you're as much of an idiot as I am.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Alfred slipped out of the bed as soon as he heard Ivan slam the doors to the suite outside. The bleeding had stopped at around one or two in the morning, he wasn't quite sure. He had spent all the hours before dawn lost in thought as Ivan used him as a pillow.</p><p>Ignoring the ache in his lower back, Alfred padded inside the bathroom and straight to the large drop-in soaking tub. He turned the faucets on and, as he waited for the tub to fill, took a quick shower to cleanse off the remnants of last night.</p><p>When the water in the soaking tub was ready, Alfred slid in with a pleased hum. The hot water soothed the soreness in his muscles. He closed his eyes. One shitty decision made by Arthur several months ago, and Alfred was the fucktoy of the demon he despised most in the world. Heaven would fall to the Dark horde because the one in charge of guarding it was warming the bed of a rival general. Really, Alfred could have laughed at the absurdity of it all.</p><p>He squinted at the clock above the mirror. It was blurry without his glasses—he had set them on the nightstand before Ivan came in, roaring drunk, and they were there still—but the short hand looked like it was at seven. Toris would stop by with breakfast in an hour, and Braginsky would return in six hours to take his lunch.</p><p>Alfred opened his hand and studied the two keys in his palm. One was copper, and the other brass. Ivan had been so out of it that he had never noticed the slim fingers probing around in his pockets, nor that he had neglected to give the enchanted bands their unspoken command.</p><p>It was seven in the morning on his fourteenth day of being Ivan's captive, and Alfred only knew three things for sure: Heaven was going to lose the war because of him; Braginsky was a madman; and, by this time tomorrow, Alfred would be free.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alfred goes where he should not. Ivan follows.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: This chapter is as dark as the story gets. It's REALLY dark. Horror, gore, violence, implied rape, creepy spider</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The edges of Alfred's feathers gleamed gold as he flew. <em>Two hours east of the palace, before you hit the River of Lost Souls. The entrance is under a canopy of blood-red leaves, hidden in the roots of the Suicide Grove. My, Alfred, you should have seen how scared he was when he saw what was inside…</em></p><p>Alfred forced the memory out of his mind and refocused his searching gaze.</p><p>
  <em>Ah! There.</em>
</p><p>He adjusted his grip on the shining sword and descended.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan knew that something was wrong the second he stepped into the den and saw the untouched plate of sliced plums on the table.</p><p>"Jones!" He barked, ignoring the pounding in his head. "Get out here. <em>Now</em>."</p><p>There was no response. Growling, Ivan strode to his bedroom and threw open the door.</p><p>The glass balcony doors were ajar. On top of the dresser near the bed, a long, flat box was open. Beside it, Ivan made out the glint of sunlight on a pair of keys, one copper, one brass.</p><p>The angel was nowhere in sight.</p><p>Hungover or not, he was going to <em>slaughter </em>Alfred.</p>
<hr/><p>The final sunbeams of the afternoon shone straight into Ivan's eyes, but he was too distracted to avert his gaze. The patrols that he had sent out shortly after lunch had returned minutes ago with empty hands and no clue of where Alfred could have gone. There was not so much as a stray feather.</p><p>Ivan turned to the cellarette with a pang of longing. Should he…? No, not until Alfred was found and secured. After the former general was chained to his bed with more than a few broken bones, Ivan would treat himself to a nice night of forgetting regrets.</p><p>To think that he had welcomed—willingly!—the celestial nuisance into his life. The gold seemed like a more appealing choice by the day.</p><p>Really, he should have clipped Jones' wings after the last escape attempt. Ivan cursed his oversight under his breath. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.</p><p>Where <em>was </em>the damn brat?</p><p>As far as he knew, Alfred had only been to Francis' palace and Ivan's own castle, and had seen little else beyond the two areas. How well did the angel know the Underworld? He wasn't one of the generals sent to infiltrate the Dark realm; the Vargases had been in charge of that, and Kirkland, later, after the brothers had been captured.</p><p>Ivan's men had done a thorough sweep of the castle grounds. There had been nothing. Did Alfred head to Francis' palace, then? It was a carriage ride of several hours, but perhaps quicker if Jones flew. Maybe he was just getting there—maybe he wanted to plead for Francis to take him back, or to complain to Arthur, or to get more of those precious strawberries that he was apparently obsessed with.</p><p>Ivan left his chambers. There was a phone in his office that connected directly to the king's personal line.</p>
<hr/><p>"General Braginsky!" Francis' voice was pleasantly surprised. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"</p><p>"Jones is gone. He vanished this morning. Has anyone in your palace seen him around?"</p><p>Francis pursed his lips, thoughtful. Ivan must be in quite a mood, to forgo the usual formalities. Across from him, Arthur arched a large eyebrow.</p><p>The demon monarch covered the mouthpiece of the French rotary phone with an elegant hand.</p><p>"Alfred is missing," he said lowly.</p><p>Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course he is."</p><p>"He's been gone for the whole day. Ivan hasn't seen him at all."</p><p>"Well, he has not come here. Emma and Lucille would have mentioned if he had."</p><p>The two exchanged a troubled look.</p><p>"Do you think—" Francis began.</p><p>"The lad has always been impulsive, quicker to act than to think," the corner of Arthur's mouth twisted in dismay. "Moreover, he possesses a complete disregard for his own safety. I sincerely hope not, but I anticipate the worst."</p><p>Shaking his head, Francis unclasped his fingers from the transmitter.</p><p>"General Braginsky," he said, voice light, "has our dear Alfred told you about Davie?"</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan urged Ladya faster. Beneath him, the jet-black pegasus whinnied in protest, but obediently flapped her wings.</p><p>Dusk was falling, and he didn't have much time left. If Ivan was too late, if he couldn't retrieve Alfred before the night ended, then there would be nothing left to find.</p><p>As Ivan headed to Tartarus, Francis' words echoed in his head.</p><p>"<em>When he first arrived at the palace, Alfred was rather difficult. Constant escape attempts, the… creativity of which you might be acquainted with</em>. <em>We had no luck with calming him down, until we discovered that he had a soft spot for his aide-de-camp. Davie was his name.</em></p><p>"<em>Davie was a lovely boy, and Alfred and he were very close. The best of friends. He was captured and taken to the palace a few days after Alfred, so I suppose it was only a matter of time until Alfred roped Davie into one of his foolhardy breaks for freedom. Alfred almost made it to one of the portals before my soldiers managed to catch him.</em></p><p>"<em>He didn't think things through, of course—the portal led to another part of the Underworld, where he would have been promptly restrained and returned—but the fact that he was able to leave the grounds at all was concerning. To teach Alfred a lesson about the consequences of his actions, we decided to punish Davie.</em></p><p>"<em>We threw Davie into Tartarus with a rifle and bayonet to defend himself. The next day, all we found was a hollowed-out head. Eyes plucked, tongue ripped out. When Alfred saw what remained of his personal assistant, he grew understandably upset. Afterwards, however, he was much more agreeable to his role…"</em></p><p>The fading sunset cast a dim glow over the top of the forest. In the distance, Ivan could faintly make out a patch of crimson.</p><p>"Land at the base of the red trees, Ladya," Ivan said, nudging the mare's sides.</p>
<hr/><p>Ladya was tied up to the trunk of a tree about thirty meters from the entrance of Tartarus. Ivan hoped that the distance was enough to keep her from any harm; the creatures within would not hesitate to devour the pegasus if they caught her.</p><p>Dark magic permeated every corner of the Underworld, but Tartarus was saturated in <em>evil </em>magic. It was a dangerous place, even for a demon. For an angel, it was practically a death sentence.</p><p>As the last light of the day disappeared, the darkness within the pit seemed to come alive. Around him, the air shifted with rustles and the slimy drip of liquids, the brush of scales against a hard surface and, very far away, a persistent clicking sound.</p><p>Ivan summoned a flame to his palm. The weak, frosty glow barely illuminated the space ahead of him, but he could not afford to draw more attention to himself here. His other hand clutched his sword.</p><p>Ivan suppressed a shudder as he passed through the grotesque mass of curling roots.</p>
<hr/><p><em>No use</em>.</p><p>Ivan had wandered around Tartarus for what seemed like hours, and there had been no sign of Alfred at all. The pit had turned maze-like the farther that Ivan had walked, its monstrous inhabitants all the more strange. The stench of rot and evil magic was almost overwhelming.</p><p>The gossamer wings of a centipede-bat flashed. Ivan ducked, but not fast enough. The creature skimmed the top of his head. He felt the minute tugs of its many pointed legs in his hair.</p><p>The distant clicking sound was closer. Much closer.</p><p>His fingers tightened around the sword hilt.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eyes, Ivan saw a flash of white. Ivan whirled around, sword held out in front of him.</p><p>"Show yourself," he snarled.</p><p>The clicking sound abruptly stopped. A low, raspy laugh reverberated through the airless darkness.</p><p>"So aggressive! I mean no harm."</p><p>An enormous spider the color of blanched corpses emerged from the shadows. Its back was thick was pustules—no, not pustules, <em>eyes</em>, Ivan realized—and it had eight gnashing jaws where its eyes should have been. The clicking sound had been from the teeth as the mouths opened and closed.</p><p>One of the jaws, the only one with a tongue, was speaking.</p><p>"Back from the war, General Braginsky?" Its front legs shot forward as the spider dipped into a low bow. Ivan stepped back in disgust. "Such a rare occasion that one of the highest-ranking demons would deign to visit us poor denizens of Tartarus," the spider wheedled. "What can this common one aid you with, noble sir?"</p><p>"I am looking for an angel," Ivan hissed.</p><p>The irises on the spider's back rolled in different directions. Another raspy laugh bounced off the walls of the claustrophobic space.</p><p>"The delicious little morsel that arrived earlier? We had been so sure that he was another gift from kind, <em>generous </em>King Bonnefoy. He put up quite a fight—cut down a whole herd of Baphomet-Satyrs, wouldn't you know? But I believe one of the Minotaurs bested him, eventually. It must be bored of him by now." A cacophony of clicks.</p><p>"To think that you, General Braginsky, had been the one to grace us with such a treat…" The spider crept closer, eight legs skittering across the slick ground. "We are grateful. If I go soon, I might even be able to get a bite. <em>Oh</em>," the long, blue tongue swiped across rotting teeth, "I'm positively salivating already."</p><p>The tongue stopped its obscene motion when the tip of a sword wedged itself between the jaws.</p><p>"Take me to the angel," Ivan commanded coldly. "If he's dead…" The threat hung in the stale air.</p><p>Four of the spider's back legs raised in surrender. "No need for violence, General Braginsky! I will gladly serve as your guide. Follow me." It turned so that its many eyeballs stared directly at Ivan. "And not to worry—we down here like to play with our food. No nibbles until the darling has given up out of despair, and only when it's still alive. Only the freshest for us!" A loud, clanking cackle rang through the pit.</p><p>"Perhaps I will be a bit self-indulgent, after all," the spider rumbled under its breath as it started to crawl along the side of a wall.</p><p>Grimacing, Ivan followed.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan's boots were damp from sloshing around in putrid mud by the time that the spider halted. They were in another part of Tartarus now, but Ivan could not tell whether they had gone deeper within the pit, or closer to its aboveground entrance. The winding paths and suffocating darkness, the constant rustles and drips, confused all sense of direction.</p><p>Ivan saw a soft light a few meters away. It carried the distinctive purity of a Light-created object. <em>That must be Alfred's sword.</em> Ivan made to move closer when the spider spoke.</p><p>"You may not want to be too hasty, General Braginsky."</p><p>Ivan held up his hand higher and called forth more of his magic. The numbing glow in his palm flared, casting long shadows around the moist cavern.</p><p>Ivan inhaled sharply.</p><p>In front of him was a writhing mass of coal-black tentacles, each studded with spikes and cruel talons. Several were wrapped around the divine blade. More were wound around the outline of a figure—a figure with wings that hung at odd angles. Ivan caught the flame's reflection on metallic gold, a flash of dull blue.</p><p><em>Alfred</em>.</p><p>"Well, there goes my meal," the spider sighed, disappointed. "An Aves-Kraken. It'll never share. Best of luck, General!" With a final roll of its numerous eyes, the spider vanished, clicking, back into the darkness.</p><p>Ivan angled his blade at the monstrosity that entangled Alfred. "Drop him," the demon ordered.</p><p>The Aves-Kraken released a high-pitched shriek and constricted its hold on the angel. Alfred twitched weakly. In the middle of the bundle of oily tentacles, a curved beak split open, exposing rows of needle-like teeth.</p><p>Gritting his teeth, Ivan awakened the ice in his marrow and invoked the snowmelt of his blood. He had refrained from using his frozen magic for so long—the bitterness of the warfront at Heaven's hyperborean outskirts perpetually haunted him—but he had no other choice now. The kraken would rip Alfred apart before he could swing his sword.</p><p>Ivan raised his aglow hand. Hail battered the walls of the pit as a blizzard brewed. The kraken's thrashing slowed, its tentacles stiffening under hard, clear layers of ice. Ivan narrowed his eyes in concentration as the ice spread to coat the entire mass of the beast, careful to keep the chill from harming Alfred.</p><p>When the kraken was completely still, Ivan closed his hand. The creature shattered with a loud crack.</p><p>Alfred collapsed face-up into the crystalline dust.</p><p>Ivan quickly made his way over, stooping down only to pick up the divine blade and the pair of blue-framed glasses next to it. The lenses didn't have so much as a scratch, Ivan noted with surprise as he slipped them into his pocket. They must have been enchanted with a charm to render them indestructible.</p><p>Hovering over Alfred, Ivan grimly wished that a similar spell had been cast on the angel. He was pale, body littered with deep gouges and wounds. Not only were his wings dirtied with dark sludge and grime, but feathers had been torn out in clumps and numerous fine bones snapped. A viscous, foul black liquid dribbled from between Alfred's lips and thighs. His right hand was clenched around something.</p><p>Ivan hoisted the unresponsive angel into his arms—Jones was far too light—and hunted for a way out of Tartarus.</p>
<hr/><p>Ladya took off for the stables the moment that Ivan dismounted. Barely sparing a glance at the pegasus, Ivan hurried through the halls of his castle. Soon he was at the highest tower in the most isolated wing.</p><p>Ivan knocked at the inlaid rosewood door. When no one answered, he knocked louder, practically hammering the copper handle against the wood.</p><p>"I'm coming, I'm coming," an annoyed voice called from within. The door opened to reveal a dark-haired man with delicate features, jeweled antlers, and a large stuffed cartoon cat in his arms.</p><p>"Ivan," he yawned. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"</p><p>"Sorry, Yao," the demon general replied. He shoved Alfred forward, and the qilin's eyes widened. "I have an absolute <em>birdbrain </em>of an angel who requires medical attention."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Things start getting better next chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ivan comes to uncomfortable realizations about his captive. Alfred wakes up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: hint of suicidal thoughts, prostitution</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a week since Yao snatched Alfred out of Ivan's arms with a glare and a crude swear that was completely out of character for the castle's physician. After cleaning him up, Yao had moved Alfred to one of the hospital beds in the infirmary. The angel was currently recuperating, hooked to an IV that administered a healing potion—loaded with nutrients to prevent malnourishment—into his bloodstream.</p><p>His eyes hadn't opened at all, Yao had told the demon general with a frown, even though his body was clearly working hard to expel the toxins from Tartarus. A few times a day, Alfred would convulse and cough up a foul black sludge that was tainted with evil magic. He never woke up during those fits, although he was somehow able to swallow the potions that Yao shoved down his throat for rehydration without throwing them back up.</p><p>Ivan stared at the form tucked under the pristine sheets, illuminated under the moonbeams. It was the hour before midnight, and Alfred's face was relaxed in sleep. Alfred's wings had been fully restored to their previous condition, and his curling lashes fluttered with every inhale. He looked harmless and innocent, wholly unlike the ferocious, bloodthirsty beast Ivan had known on the battlefield.</p><p>Ivan didn't know when it started, or what drove him to in the first place, but he had gotten into a habit of sitting by the angel's bedside for a few hours every night.</p><p>It wasn't necessary, practically speaking—Yao was in the room adjacent, and a light sleeper, so if anything happened, he would be over instantly to tend to his patient.</p><p>But he did a lot of things that weren't necessary when it came to Alfred, Ivan reflected with a grimace. It was maddening, really. Ivan prided himself on his pragmatic nature, his tendency towards acting rationally in every situation. It had kept him alive on the battlefield. It formed the foundation of his success in the military.</p><p>Going to Tartarus and wandering around the pit in the dead of night to retrieve Alfred had gone against all of that. Ivan knew this, knew this from the second he had gathered Ladya's reins in one hand and departed with his sword in the other.</p><p>So why, then, had he done it?</p><p>Jones was troublesome and obstinate, and he displayed the most blatant negligence for his life and the lives of others out of anyone Ivan had ever seen. He provoked Ivan endlessly. He disturbed the order within the castle, <em>reveled </em>in the chaos that he caused.</p><p>But—</p><p>The image of Alfred smiling gently as he fed the fish suddenly flashed through Ivan's mind. He had been humming something soft and without melody, and he had looked peaceful as he sat at the edge of the pond, a short distance away from the bobbing sunflowers. The sunlight formed a halo around his golden head, and, behind his glasses, his eyes were gem-like, sparkling—</p><p>If, at that moment, radiant under the afternoon sun, Alfred had turned to <em>him</em> with that gentle smile—</p><p>No.</p><p>Ivan was a practical man, and practical men did not dwell on impossible, useless fantasies involving their unruly angelic captives. Especially when the angelic captive in question was also a monster capable of decimating entire armies, was a murderer lacking all remorse, was his <em>sworn enemy</em>—</p><p>"Ivan, you should go to sleep," a quiet voice carried across the moonlit room.</p><p>Yao emerged in a loose-fitting silk robe from the physician's personal chambers. The qilin rubbed at one eye with the back of his hand and stifled a yawn. "It's getting late, Ivan. If anything changes with Alfred, I'll let you know. Go to bed."</p><p>Ivan rose up and left.</p>
<hr/><p>Three days later, Alfred was struck with fever.</p><p>Ivan sat at his usual place by the bed, taking in the pink flush of the angel's skin and the wrinkling of his brow. It was a perfectly natural response by the immune system, Yao had said. It was a good sign; Alfred would wake up soon.</p><p>Well, the healer had amended, it was a good sign if he managed to fight through it. Either Alfred would wake up soon, or he would die, but—"Do not be too concerned, Ivan. From what you've told me of him, he seems like a tough, stubborn boy."</p><p>Alfred's fever had steadily crept up all evening. It seemed to be peaking now, judging from the helpless whimpers that emitted from the former general's throat. Yao had given him some fever reducers already, but it would take a while before it kicked in.</p><p>"Davie…"</p><p>Ivan stiffened. The scent of apricot and cardamom was very noticeable, all of a sudden.</p><p>"Davie…." The angel mumbled again. "'M sorry… should've been me…"</p><p>Ivan reached out a hand to Alfred's forehead, and hissed. Alfred was <em>burning</em>.</p><p>"My fault… not the hero… couldn't save you…" Alfred sobbed out something broken and incoherent, and his entire body shuddered. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry, Davie." Tears were trickling out of the corners of his eyes.</p><p>With heavy arms that felt like they belonged to someone else, Ivan pushed his chair closer to the bed. He brought up his hands and murmured an incantation. A frosty light briefly enveloped his palms and coursed up to his fingertips.</p><p>Tenderly, he pulled the golden head, damp with sweat, into his lap and placed a cool palm to Alfred's forehead. The whimpers died down almost instantly. Ivan started to stroke the angel's hair with his fingers, trailing the spell-chilled pads slowly through silky locks, taking care to avoid the cowlick.</p><p>Alfred's mumbles quietened.</p><p>Ivan did not know how long he had been petting Alfred when the former general abruptly choked out a cry.</p><p>"Davie!"</p><p>Alfred thrashed around, hitting Ivan in the chest. Black sludge was dripping out from between his lips again, and he coughed wetly as if his lungs were filling up with the foul liquid. Ivan shoved him back onto the bed to prevent the tarry substance from getting on his clothes.</p><p>Yao swept out of his bedroom with several vials clutched between his slender fingers. "Ivan, you should go. I have the medicine that he needs. Your presence here will not help."</p><p>Alfred's scent grew so cloying that even the faint notes of sunflowers and sunshine permeated every inch of the room. That <em>smell</em>—</p><p>Ivan realized with horror that he was getting aroused. Quickly stepping outside, he slammed the infirmary door closed and slumped against it.</p><p>"Fuck," Ivan said. Then, more emphatically, "<em>fuck</em>."</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan turned and tossed in his bed for what must have been hours. At last, he sat up with a sigh.</p><p>Trying to sleep was futile. Even after the cold shower, his thoughts had been stubbornly fixated on the mingling of apricot and cardamom and summer and on the stupid, infuriating, beautiful, <em>radiant</em>—</p><p>Ivan took a deep breath to calm himself.</p><p>This was pathetic.</p><p>He was pathetic.</p><p>He was an elite general, one of the finest in demon history, and he was pining like a lovesick schoolgirl after an insolent prisoner who had shared his bed for two measly weeks. Pining for a ruthless, <em>dangerous</em> homicidal maniac with the most abrasive personality, who had been unconscious for almost as long as he had been awake in Ivan's care.</p><p>What in <em>Tartarus</em> was wrong with him?</p><p>Ivan threw the covers off and headed outside. The cold air would clear his head, and if not, there was always another way to settle his problem.</p>
<hr/><p>From the outside, the brothel didn't seem <em>too</em> seedy, and Ivan was glad that the interior did nothing to dissuade this impression, even if the decorations were a bit gaudy.</p><p>The bell jingled. A middle-aged dark blonde with hair tied back in a French knot and a gold crown-shaped hairpin glanced up from her computer at the front desk. She looked professional in a purple blazer and long white skirt.</p><p>"Good evening, sir. How can I help you?" The madam—Marianne, according to the metal plaque on the desk—had a brisk, business-like manner.</p><p>"Ah," Ivan cleared his throat. "I am looking for a companion."</p><p>Her violet-tinted lips curved into a smile. "Of course." She slid a large binder towards him. "Rates are for per night."</p><p>Ivan flipped through the portraits of the brothel workers. The majority seemed to be angels. There was nothing shocking about the fact. The various inhabitants of the Underworld had identified, early on, a <em>preferred</em> occupation for the fairer celestial beings who were captured during the war. Had Francis not been adamant that the angel generals be placed under his personal purview, they likely would have ended up at such a brothel.</p><p>Something in Ivan's chest tightened at the thought of Alfred writhing under a different faceless demon every night. <em>That would be letting him off easy for his war crimes, </em>Ivan told his erratic, perfidious heart. <em>He deserves it, and much worse</em>. Then he turned the page with more force than was perhaps necessary.</p><p>Ivan paused at a picture of a blond angel with green eyes. He was a fetching little thing, slender and coquettish as he winked at the camera.</p><p>Marianne looked over. "Feliks is one of our most popular boys. A good choice. The entire evening?"</p><p>Ivan's mouth was dry as he nodded. She handed him a keychain with a gold key and a tiny felt pony. "Room forty-eight, on the fourth floor."</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan knocked on the door, hoping that it was the right one. Someone had covered it in pony stickers so that the room number was barely visible.</p><p>"Like, feel free to come right in!"</p><p>Ivan turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. His eyes were immediately assaulted by walls painted a blinding shade of pink and numerous posters of frolicking ponies.</p><p>He screwed his face in disgust.</p><p>The blond on the bed flipped his shoulder-length hair back and pouted. "What, you don't like the decor?"</p><p>"…It's not particularly suited to my tastes."</p><p>"Yeah, whatever. I, like, don't actually care. You're just here to bust a nut, right?"</p><p>Well, Ivan had definitely made the right choice. This angel was just as mouthy as Alfred. Was it sad that Ivan was actually grateful that Jones didn't have a horse fetish as well?</p><p>Ivan undressed and approached the bed.</p><p>He did not expect Feliks to immediately scramble back, fear in his wide green eyes.</p><p>"Okay, so, like, I <em>love </em>horses, don't get me wrong, but there's <em>no way</em> in Tartarus that your horse dick is going anywhere near me. That will, like, literally rip me apart. Like, what the actual fuck? Did your slutty-ass mom fuck a pegasus or something?"</p><p>Ivan was really getting tired of the equine comparisons, and the jabs at the moral character of his mother were losing their novelty. He pinned Feliks to the bed with a growl.</p><p>"Sorry, I take that back!" Feliks yelped. "Your mom's not a slut, she's a fine, upstanding woman!"</p><p>The scent of poppy and lemon flared. Underneath him, the angel was shaking, terrified. His eyes were green, not blue, but the shade of his hair was similar enough, if a bit lighter and not styled the same way.</p><p>The fear, however… Alfred had never looked at him like that. He had looked at Ivan with defiance and contempt and hatred in his eyes, yes, but never fear.</p><p>When Ivan drew back, there was a sour taste in his mouth. "Never mind," he said as he buttoned up his coat. "You're coming with me."</p><p>"Wait, like, what the fuck?" Feliks called after the retreating figure.</p>
<hr/><p>Back in his suite, sitting at the table near the bay windows, Ivan threw back another shot of vodka. He hadn't the faintest idea what possessed him to purchase the green-eyed prostitute from the brothel. The madam had only blinked at him once before printing out an invoice and wishing him a good rest of the evening.</p><p>The angel would arrive at the castle tomorrow with his belongings. Ivan would let Toris deal with him; just thinking about the situation brought about the beginnings of a headache.</p><p>Why had he made such a rash decision? Feliks had not been cheap, but Ivan would live—Francis compensated his generals well enough, and Ivan had enjoyed precious few opportunities to splurge during his time at the warfront.</p><p>Was it shame, then, at not being to perform? Or perhaps it was guilt, at seeing the way that the blond had shaken with fear.</p><p>No, Ivan thought resentfully. All of his rash decisions lately have had to do with one thing. One person. He was certain that Jones had something to do with it, even though the angel in question had been unconscious for the past ten days.</p>
<hr/><p>Alfred was propped up on a pillow, examining something in his hand, when Ivan entered the infirmary the next day. Yao was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>"<em>Jones</em>."</p><p>"Braginsky," Alfred said dully. He didn't look up. Ivan saw a flash of metal between slim fingers.</p><p>"Do you want to tell me what the <em>fuck </em>was going through your empty head when you decided to go to Tartarus?"</p><p>For once, Alfred didn't bite back with an obnoxious retort.</p><p>"Was it for Davie?"</p><p>Alfred's hand clenched around the piece of metal. "There was something that I wanted to recover," he said lowly. "I wanted to find Davie's dog tags. Francis didn't give them back to me. I promised that I'd keep him safe." Alfred's shoulders sagged against the pillow. "I couldn't. So I thought that I'd at least keep his dog tags safe for him."</p><p>Ivan seethed.<em> The sheer audacity of this brat.</em> "Don't lie to me, Jones. You went to Tartarus with your enchanted bands on. You entered the most dangerous place in the Underworld, malnourished and barely able to stand upright, after starving for <em>weeks</em>. You're not that stupid. No one alive can be that stupid. There's another reason you're not telling me."</p><p>The demon general slowly exhaled.</p><p>"Alfred," he said, "am I so bad that you'd prefer being torn apart in Tartarus to being in my bed?"</p><p>Alfred inspected the broken dog tag as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.</p><p>Ivan felt a sharp burst of anger. The temperature dropped. "All right, then, Jones. Be that way," he crooned, voice saccharine sweet, child-like. "I am clipping your wings tonight."</p><p>Alfred finally reacted. "Clip my wings, Braginsky," he enunciated each word with care, "and I will kill myself."</p><p>Ivan studied the angel. Alfred wasn't bluffing.</p><p>"You can't keep an eye on me all the time," Alfred continued. "One day when you're not there, I'll slit my throat or eat something I'm not supposed to, and I will die.</p><p>"You will have nothing to show for all of your <em>long</em> years of service. Do you really want to have suffered in that <em>terrible </em>tundra for nothing, bastard?" His smirk was caustic and showed all of his perfect teeth. "And after you went to <em>all that trouble </em>of saving me from Tartarus, too."</p><p>Alfred looked Ivan straight in the eye and inwardly shivered at the pure fury he saw in the violet depths. He kept his face from twitching; to Ivan, his expression must be perfectly blank.</p><p>Stupid, Alfred thought. He was so fucking<em> stupid</em>. He was in no position to be playing dangerous games, and yet here he was. Trying to save the king when his pieces were almost all gone. And against <em>Braginsky</em> of all people. Braginsky, who loathed him and was insane besides. Silly, stupid, reckless Alfred.</p><p>Well, it had been recklessness that got him into this mess in the first place. No point in stopping now.</p><p>If he were running out of pieces, he'd just make more.</p><p>"A wager."</p><p>"Excuse me?" The demon general hissed.</p><p>"Let's make a wager of battle, Braginsky. A sword fight. If I beat you, you'll let me go anywhere I want without trying to stop me."</p><p>Ivan snorted with derision. "A sword fight? You're hardly a swordsman. I've seen your hands, Jones. You're just a pampered whore."</p><p>Alfred gritted his teeth. "Tomorrow. In the arena."</p><p>"Very well, we will fight tomorrow." Ivan waved a hand carelessly. "And if I best you?"</p><p>"I will submit to you," Alfred spat.</p><p>Ivan's lip curled. "You'll have to offer something more appealing, Jones. Your body is already mine. I have no need for your submission."</p><p>Silence stretched on for several seconds.</p><p>"I'll be willing," Alfred said, voice hollow.</p><p>Ivan raised an eyebrow.</p><p>Alfred scowled down at his hands. "And I won't try to escape again."</p><p>"I accept the wager."</p><p>Alfred turned to Ivan in surprise.</p><p>"On one condition."</p><p>The glimmer of hope in Alfred's eyes died.</p><p>"If I win, you will also recognize that your life is mine."</p><p>Alfred bowed his head, fingers trembling against the sheets.</p><p>"Yes, master," he muttered bitterly. "If you win, my life is yours."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alfred and Ivan duel. The aftermath.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fasten your seatbelts, folks! This chapter is a ride.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You are being needlessly dramatic." Yao passed a plate of sliced apples to Alfred. "And it's a terrible idea. I can't see how it will end well."</p><p>Alfred crunched into an apple slice and spoke around the mouthful. "I don't really have a choice at this point."</p><p>"You do, you absolutely do," Yao said, rolling his eyes. "If you're too stubborn to see that, though, I don't suppose that I can change your mind. Finish chewing first, and don't talk with your mouth full."</p><p>Alfred hastily swallowed. "Sorry!"</p><p>"Anyway," Yao went on, "Ivan isn't a bad person. Really," he said sternly as he saw Alfred open his mouth. "He isn't. He can be reasoned with."</p><p>"Well, he's hardly what I would call a <em>good </em>person," Alfred grumbled under his breath, before he addressed the healer in a louder voice. "I can't call off the fight now. Braginsky'll think I'm a coward. And I don't want to."</p><p>Yao sighed. "I will see you tomorrow after the duel, then. Try to not have anything hacked off. My potions can only do so much."</p><p>"All right, Yao," Alfred gave him a crooked grin, "but no promises."</p><p>The qilin shook his head in exasperation as he retired to his room for the evening. A new batch of medical texts had just arrived, and some of the discoveries described seemed positively ground-breaking. Perhaps there might actually be a potion formula for restoring lost limbs in there…</p><hr/><p>"Mister Alfred"—"How many times do I have to tell you, just Alfred is fine!"—"Alfred, it's not too late to back out now, there's no shame in it," Toris was saying as he escorted the former general to the arena.</p><p>Alfred chortled. "And make it easy for that bastard? Never."</p><p>"Ah, b-but Master Braginsky is widely renowned as a prodigy with the sword. He has been trained by the finest masters since he was a child. Even General Gilbert Beilschmidt would not dare to pick up a blade against him. In fact, no demon to date has been able to best him in a duel."</p><p>"Ha, ha! Good thing I'm not a demon, huh, Toris?"</p><p>Alfred's cockiness would be his downfall, Toris thought to himself. He bit his lip and hoped that Ivan would show mercy for once and not kill Alfred. He was starting to quite like the sunny blond.</p><hr/><p>The amphitheater was packed. Rumors of a duel between their esteemed commander and his angelic captive, the notorious General Jones, had spread quickly through the ranks. And since the arena was situated close to the barracks, Ivan's men had no qualms about pausing in their midday duties to see what promised to be the spectacle of the century.</p><p>They were shouting as they rushed to place bets.</p><p>"Fifty that Jones lasts for thirty seconds!"</p><p>"Twenty on a minute!"</p><p>"Thirty on three minutes!"</p><p>The last call was met with guffaws. "<em>Three </em>minutes? Are you insane? Have you seen our general with a sword? He'd trounce Jones in two minutes, and that's if he's going easy."</p><p>From down in the arena, Ivan listened to his rowdy soldiers with an amused smirk. Not one bet was on Jones; no one cared to lose money in such an imprudent manner. <em>Three minutes</em>, <em>huh. Someone certainly has faith in Alfred</em>. He rotated the hilt of the Light-forged sword in his hand. His own was in its scabbard at his side.</p><p>Two figures were emerging from the entrance at the other end of the arena. The sun caught on golden strands, a bobbing cowlick. Alfred was walking towards him with a cocky grin plastered across his face. Next to him, Toris mouthed something that was either "Best of luck" or "Please spare him" and turned to leave.</p><p>"Ready, Jones?" Ivan tossed Alfred his shining sword, and the angel caught it easily in one hand.</p><p>"Yep! Hope you're ready to get your ass handed to you, Braginsky!"</p><p>Ivan laughed at the boy's arrogance, and lunged.</p><hr/><p>Feliks elbowed past another gaping soldier as he struggled to find a vantage point to see the fight. Despite having no idea what was going on, he was determined to see what was so great that the loudmouth guards had to stay up chattering about it until two in the morning. Feliks had to bury his head under the pillow until they finally shut up.</p><p>Since leaving the brothel, his life had been nothing but a jumbled mess. His new owner—someone called Ivan Braginsky—apparently didn't give two shits about what he was up to. The only person who was nice enough to answer questions from a very, very confused Feliks had been Toris, the cute brunet Head Housekeeper.</p><p>Braginsky, whoever he was, must have had a few screws loose to buy a prostitute on a whim and, like, just completely forget about him. How rude! Toris had chuckled awkwardly and said that it might have been because Master Braginsky saw too much of the war.</p><p>Saw… war.</p><p>Feliks' thoughts turned to the last leave he had taken before he was captured. His commanding officer had okayed Feliks' week-long trip to Warsaw with a gleaming Hollywood smile, a thumbs-up, and his customary ignorance of human geography—"Dude, I have no idea where that is, but have fun! Bring me back a bagel or something, ha ha!"</p><p>As he wove through the dense crowd of soldiers, Feliks absently wondered where the guy was now. He was kind of an airhead, but he hosted movie nights with <em>a ton </em>of candy and popcorn, and those were always lots of fun, even though the only flicks they watched were action-packed trash.</p><p>Feliks ducked under the arm of a tall demon with a stern face and glasses.</p><p>There! A small patch of unoccupied space close to the arena.</p><p>"Like, excuse me!"</p><p>The spectator blocking his view dumbly stepped aside to let Feliks through, and he popped his head through the gap.</p><p>"Oh!" The green-eyed angel perked up. Speak of the devil. Or, in this case, his former commanding officer. "Hey! <em>Alfred!"</em></p><hr/><p>Alfred's eyes flickered to the side for a millisecond when he heard the familiar voice call his name.</p><p>It was all the distraction that Ivan needed; the demon immediately swiped his blade forward, nicking Alfred's arm.</p><p>Alfred's eyes narrowed as he recognized what the brief moment of inattention had cost him. Hissing at his mistake, the angel parried and returned with a thrust of his own, but it was too late—Ivan had already put him on the defensive, and the demon was too good of a swordsman to give Alfred an opening.</p><p>The arena was deathly silent except for the clang of steel on steel. The blades whirled too fast to be tracked by the naked eye. They were evenly matched. For every strike that one landed, his opponent responded in kind.</p><p>Blood dripped steadily from their wounds.</p><p>Alfred stabbed at Ivan's chest; the demon leapt up to avoid being impaled, and the wind caught his wings. To Ivan's surprise, Alfred's next swing drove him higher. His eyes widened. Jones wanted to turn this into an aerial fight, and he wasn't giving Ivan a chance to refuse.</p><p>A slash to his jugular. Ivan swerved at the last second, and a trail of crimson bloomed on his cheek. Alfred was fighting to kill, the platinum blond realized grimly. But Ivan had the upper hand, still. He would not lose. He flapped his wings and gained altitude. Blade and bracelets flashing, Alfred pursued him closely above the arena.</p><p>In the air, they continued as twin dervishes in their own lethal storm.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, Ivan thought, at the same time that his blood sang with adrenaline and exhilaration at having found such a worthy adversary. The only thing he had ever seen the other wield on the battlefield was heavy artillery—he hadn't imagined that Jones would be <em>amazing </em>at close combat.</p><p>Alfred was utterly savage and so, so beautiful in the sunlight that it almost hurt to look at him. If he had cut Ivan down at that moment, the demon realized with some alarm, he would have no regrets. He'd gladly fall to such a magnificent creature.</p><p>The blades clashed again.</p><p>Something in Alfred's eyes changed. With a low growl, Alfred abruptly whipped around and shot up in the air, putting distance between himself and Ivan.</p><p>Below, the soldiers roared their disapproval at the display of cowardice.</p><p>Ivan paused. The spark in those cerulean depths had not been that of fear. No, he had seen determination and something else. So why…?</p><p>Ivan lurched forward. His outstretched hand grabbed empty air as Alfred pressed his wings to his back and plummeted like a diving falcon towards the ground.</p><p><em>Desperation</em>. Alfred was resolved to win, and desperate. Alfred angled the sword so that its blade was facing him.</p><p>The tip of Alfred's shining sword was pointed to his heart.</p><p>"<em>No</em>."</p><p>Alfred might have started his descent earlier, but Ivan was heavier; he fell fast through the air and, when he was an arm's length away from the angel, he rammed the flat of his blade against the fingers clutching the divine weapon.</p><p>Alfred released it with a curse. He swore, again, when Ivan snagged the crook of his elbow with the pipe—always tucked in that damned military coat—and drew Alfred into arms like freezing iron bands.</p><p>The former general trembled with rage as the pair landed lightly on the sand.</p><p>"I win," Ivan whispered into Alfred's ear as the amphitheater erupted in cheers.</p><hr/><p>"Good job, blondie!" A demon clapped Feliks heartily on the back. "If you hadn't distracted Jones, he might have actually won the wager!"</p><p>"W-wager?"</p><p>"Yeah! If Jones won, he'd have been free to go."</p><p>Feliks covered his mouth with his hands in horror.</p><p>He had <em>totally </em>ruined Alfred's one chance at escape.</p><hr/><p>"They aren't too bad." Yao sounded relieved as he carefully inspected the angel's injures. He handed Alfred a glass filled with brown liquid. "Drink up. You'll be fine in an hour."</p><p>Alfred wrinkled his nose. "This smells terrible, Yao, and I can heal myself."</p><p>"Ivan didn't complain like a child when he drank his potion," the qilin said drily. "It's brewed with herbs from Heaven and the human world, so it won't hurt you. And Ivan insisted." The physician's dark brown eyes glinted. "Potion or acupuncture, Alfred. I know how much you <em>love </em>needles. Your choice."</p><p>Alfred squeaked. "Okay, okay! I'm drinking it, Yao." He downed the glass in one gulp, then grimaced. "<em>Ew</em>."</p><p>Yao collected the glass and patted Alfred on the head. "Good boy. Now go back to Ivan's room, he's expecting you there after his meeting ends."</p><p>"Can't I just stay here? I won't be any trouble, I promise."</p><p>"No, Alfred. Ivan's instructions were very clear. After you take your medicine, you're to return to his room." Yao ruffled Alfred's hair. "Besides, don't you want dinner?"</p><p>Alfred pursed his lips. He <em>was </em>getting hungry, especially since the sword fight had lasted so long. Seven minutes—he hadn't thought that Braginsky would be <em>that</em> good. Arthur had been the only one in Heaven who could outmatch him, but then again, Arthur had been the one who taught him to fight in the first place. If he hadn't gotten distracted by Feliks' shout… Well, no use in crying over spilled milk.</p><p>Why was Feliks here, anyway? He hadn't known that there was another angel in Ivan's castle. It was nice to have another friendly face around, though.</p><p>Mind made up, Alfred got up from the infirmary bed and headed to the door.</p><p>After this whole disaster with Braginsky was settled, he'd go and catch up with Feliks.</p><hr/><p>That he had lost the wager didn't truly hit Alfred until he was sitting on the edge of Ivan's bed.</p><p>His heart skipped a beat, then dropped.</p><p>Alfred's final few pieces had crumbled. Only the king was still standing. Ivan would destroy him the first chance he got.</p><p><em>But maybe if he moved first</em>…</p><p>Don't freak out. No point in freaking out. <em>Don't freak out</em>.</p><p>Trembling, Alfred ran his fingers gingerly over the metal bedposts. After this, he hopefully wouldn't be chained to them every night.</p><p>He took a deep inhale. Ivan would be back—he didn't know how soon. He had better prepare now. No telling what his demonic master would do, and Alfred couldn't afford to hesitate again. Not after last time.</p><p>Taking a glass stoppered bottle from the chest that Braginsky had so <em>kindly </em>left unlocked, Alfred vanished into the bathroom.</p><hr/><p>When Ivan entered the suite after the too-long meeting, there was a steaming plate of beef stroganoff and a porcelain bowl of pitted and halved plums on the small table.</p><p>Ivan ignored the spread in favor of the cellarette. Alfred wasn't in the lounge, so he must be in the bedroom. Ivan sent a small thanks to the gods.</p><p>He poured a shot of vodka and quickly knocked it back. He <em>really </em>did not want to deal with the obstinate angel without at least a few drinks in his system.</p><p><em>Stupid, willful boy</em>.</p><p>Another glass of alcohol in hand, Ivan sat down heavily near the bay windows. Alfred's latest idiotic stunt was still on his mind. What in the seven rings of Heaven was the boy trying to accomplish by attempting to skewer himself on his own sword?</p><p>Ivan drained the glass and measured out another. Jones always did have a thing for histrionics, he mused. Oversized firearms that spewed showers of bullets, a magical aura that was dazzling even against the bright white of the tundra, the way he strutted about the battlefield as if he owned it, as if it were a catwalk and he <em>knew</em> that he was what everyone had come to see.</p><p>There was no denying it—Alfred had a knack for being the center of attention. Confident and charismatic, he attracted every eye to him instantly, as if it were somehow the most natural thing in the world.</p><p>Was the boy aware of how alluring his beauty and sheer power were?</p><p>Ivan took a bite of the stroganoff. Most likely not. If Alfred had even an inkling, he would not be so careless—no, not careless, <em>impetuous</em>—with his life. He would protect it like some fragile thing, instead of keep trying to fling it away.</p><p>Ivan finished his meal with a sigh, picked up the bowl of fruit, and walked over to the bedroom door.</p><hr/><p>Alfred was sitting on the bed, fingers laced, legs crossed at the ankles, shoulders leaning against the metal headboard. He had been studying the Rococo ceiling and thinking; when Ivan cracked open the door, he slipped out of the bed and dropped his glasses onto the nightstand. He stood up.</p><p>Ivan tightened his grip on the bowl as Alfred stalked towards him, hatred and determination glittering in his sapphire eyes. Inwardly cursing, Ivan slid the porcelain on top of a vanity and grasped for the pipe in his coat.</p><p>Alfred was very close now. The demon snarled in warning. He wouldn't underestimate the former general, not if he wanted to live. Beautiful or not, the boy was a monster. Even with powers restrained and strength suppressed, he didn't doubt that Alfred had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.</p><p>The angel had worn the same expression on his face during the swordfight, when he had aimed for Ivan’s throat. He didn’t want to—truly, he didn't—but if it came to it, Ivan would kill Alfred if he had to.</p><p>Ivan's fingers wrapped around metal. He was too slow. Before he could tug the pipe out, Jones had grabbed his lapels, shoved him against the close bedroom door, dragged his head down, and was pressing his rose-petal lips against Ivan's in a searing kiss.</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>Ivan's eyes grew enormous as the angel moaned into the demon's mouth. His own chapped lips had parted in surprise, and Ivan could feel Alfred's tongue probing urgently around his mouth. Alfred tasted like apricot and cardamom and summer. The fragrance was overwhelming—Alfred was everywhere, his hands were tangled in Ivan's hair, now, and his eyelashes fluttered against Ivan's cheeks.</p><p>Ivan briefly got a hold of himself amidst the swirling maelstrom of apricots and cardamom, pleasure and warmth. He broke away from the kiss.</p><p>"What <em>in Tartarus</em> are you doing?" he hissed, pupils dilated.</p><p>Alfred looked distracted. He licked his lips, and Ivan stared at the luscious little pink tongue. "You won. This is me being willing. I did say that I'd be, didn't I?" His brow furrowed in confusion. "Weren't those the terms? I thought—"</p><p>Ivan lifted Alfred by the shoulders, spun around, and pinned him against the mahogany door. Alfred's legs instantly wrapped themselves around the platinum blond's waist. Threading his fingers through the silver hair again, Alfred drew Ivan into another deep kiss as he rolled his hips against the demon's front. His nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on Ivan's coat, and then he was peeling off Ivan's shirt, unwinding Ivan's scarf. He nibbled at an earlobe.</p><p>Alfred had just started licking a long, wet stripe down to Ivan's neck when the demon pulled away with a gasp. His jaw was tense.</p><p>"Don't." Frost edged the command.</p><p>Alfred raised an eyebrow as he took in the textured scars. "Okay, dude, chill." Shrugging, he moved down to swirl his tongue around Ivan's collarbone.</p><p>Ivan melted into Alfred's arms again. He had never thought—could never have imagined in his wildest fantasies—something so delicious and good and thrilling as Alfred's mouth on his body, or touches as scorching as the ones that Alfred's fingers left on his skin. He felt as if he were being enveloped in warmed honey.</p><p>Panting and barely coherent, he stumbled over to the bed and fell with Alfred atop him. He was fully undressed now—when had Alfred taken off his boots?—and Alfred was straddling his abdomen, grinding into Ivan's crotch. Those fingers traced patterns of gentle fire across Ivan's chest, his torso, his thighs; they left drippings of caramel in their wake.</p><p>Alfred sank down on his impossibly hard cock with a whine, and Ivan choked on his breath at the perfect, <em>tight</em> heat. He could feel the oil slicking Alfred's insides, the easy way that Alfred swayed his hips <em>just so</em>. It was the height of summer, and the lazy buzz of bees was crescendoing. He was lost in the apricot orchard, draped in drizzles of honey and the comfort of cardamom—Alfred, all summer sky eyes and golden locks and tanned skin, clenched around him—and Ivan saw the sun flare suddenly, once, engulfing everything in brilliant, blazing light.</p><p>Ivan's vision went white as he exploded in the most intense orgasm of his life.</p><hr/><p>"Good?" He heard Alfred dimly, as though he was underwater. Alfred's voice was teasing.</p><p>Ivan hummed in assent as one arm reached sluggishly for the angel. He wanted Alfred curled up against him tonight, needed the sweetness of what had just occurred to linger so that Ivan might, upon waking, know it was not merely a dream.</p><p>Alfred stiffened when he felt the arm wrap around his waist and bring him against Ivan's chest. Faintly, he could hear Ivan's heartbeat—erratic, too fast, so weak that it was barely there.</p><p>
  <em>Hm.</em>
</p><p>Alfred had been full of surprises tonight. The thought crossed Ivan's mind, fleeting and soft, as he drifted off into sleep. The last of which was that instead of fighting his embrace, Alfred had relaxed into it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love comments and kudos! Feedback/thoughtful criticism is much appreciated. I assume that people are liking this based on the hits, but it's always nice to know. Next update won't be another chapter of OC—it'll be a oneshot about how Alfred became the delightful little minx that he is ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alfred reveals things about himself that he'd rather have left unsaid. Troubled by Alfred's strange behavior, Ivan consults Francis.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ivan's heart leaped into his throat when he awoke alone in bed the next morning. The porcelain bowl, which had been filled with plums, was empty on the nightstand.</p><p>Ivan dragged a hand down his face. He was a fool; of course Jones would try to escape again, he should have known better than to leave the boy unrestrained, even after the evening before—</p><p>The bathroom door opened and Alfred came out, draped in a silk robe and toweling his hair. He walked over to the door to the lounge without so much as a glance at Ivan.</p><p>"Alfred."</p><p>The angel paused, then inclined his head minutely in Ivan's direction. "Bastard," he greeted.</p><p>"What happened yesterday evening…" Ivan subtly put a hand to the inside of his wrist. His pulse was still racing, weak as it was.</p><p>Alfred shrugged, nonchalant. "I lost the wager." He looked disinterested.</p><p>The memories of Alfred's mouth on his body and the feel of those fingers on his skin were returning. Ivan swallowed. "Where did you learn to do things like that?"</p><p>Alfred was rapidly getting bored of the conversation. He cracked open the door. "Francis. Spent a lot of nights with him and Arthur." He didn't want to talk to Braginsky, not this early in the morning.</p><p>Or ever, really.</p><p>He turned away.</p><p>There was a platter of pears on the small dining table in the lounge. Letting the door close behind him, Alfred made his way over to his breakfast. He bit into a pear. Juice dripped down his chin. He picked up the plate and exited the suite.</p><p>Time to chat with Feliks.</p><hr/><p>Feliks was seated at a rickety table in the soldiers' barracks, looking out of place and very put out, when Alfred found him. He was putting on nail polish with his left hand.</p><p>"Heya, Feliks!"</p><p>The green-eyed angel jumped, and a streak of pink ran across his knuckles. He hissed in annoyance, then looked up.</p><p>"Oh, hey, Alfred." His smile was weak.</p><p>Alfred plopped down on the seat across from him.</p><p>"What's up, dude?"</p><p>Feliks rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to, like, paint my nails, but it's <em>so </em>hard. This table is super shaky."</p><p>"Here, I got you." Alfred took the other's right hand and the brush. He stuck out the tip of his tongue in concentration.</p><p>Feliks watched as Alfred carefully coated his nails.</p><p>"Hey, Al," he whispered after several minutes had passed. "I'm, like, really, really, <em>really </em>sorry. I shouldn't have yelled."</p><p>"Huh?" Alfred glanced up. "Oh, yeah, don't worry about it, man," he said breezily, waving the apology off with the hand not holding the brush. "I shouldn't have let myself get distracted. Especially not when fighting against Braginsky."</p><p>Feliks' lower lip wobbled. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.</p><p>Alfred noticed. "None of that now, you hear me, soldier?" He commanded sharply. "We're in enemy territory. Can't show any sign of weakness here."</p><p>"Y-yes, sir," Feliks said with a watery smile.</p><p>Alfred relaxed and set down Feliks' hand. The polish was perfect. Feliks gave an appreciative whistle.</p><p>The former general screwed the top back on the small pink bottle. "What are you doing here anyway, Feliks? I thought I was the only angel in the castle."</p><p>Feliks wiped away the wetness on his cheeks and leaned forward. He'd been just <em>dying </em>to share all the craziness that had happened to him over the last few days.</p><p>"Oh my <em>gods</em>, Al, so you'll <em>never </em>believe it…."</p><hr/><p>Alfred had gotten progressively angrier as Feliks related the events that led to him painting his nails in the soldiers' barracks. By the end, the golden blond was barely suppressing the desire to disembowel his demonic master with a butter knife.</p><p>"<em>That asshole</em>," Alfred snarled. He grabbed Feliks by a shoulder. "Did Braginsky hurt you?" He demanded.</p><p>"Uh, no."</p><p>Alfred calmed down a little, though his fingers kept on drumming a steady tempo on the wood.</p><p>"What a fucked up freak," he muttered, running a hand jerkily through his hair.</p><p>Alfred turned to Feliks. "Were there any other angels from our unit at the brothel you were at?"</p><p>Feliks shook his head. "Nope. There were, like, a lot of angels, but I didn't know most of them. Well," he tapped his chin thoughtfully, "now that I think about it, I, like, caught a glimpse of Tino a few times, but I heard that he escaped and is, like, totally terrorizing a demon village in a forest somewhere now."</p><p>Alfred chuckled. "Of course he is," he said fondly. Something crossed his mind. "Oh, hey, Feliks—did that bastard give you a place to stay?"</p><p>"He, like, has not talked to me at all since I got here, but Toris said that I could sleep in the barracks."</p><p>The blue-eyed angel frowned. "Do you like sleeping in the barracks?"</p><p>"Ew, no. The guards are gross and <em>so </em>loud. They get totally shitfaced at night and tell raunchy stories that are, like, completely made-up. The details are all super exaggerated, it's so obvious. Like, no one has a dick that's actually five meters long, not even Ivan, even though he's, like, totally the lovechild of a horse and a Yeti."</p><p>Alfred couldn't help it; he cracked up. "Oh my gods, that's <em>perfect</em>. And five meters… I thought it was just Gil, but no, there are more of them."</p><p>He grinned at Feliks. "Dude, I've missed you."</p><p>"Like, same right back at you, Al."</p><p>Alfred snagged Feliks' wrist. "Let's go find Toris," he said brightly. "He's a decent guy, maybe he'll let you shack up with him."</p><p>"Okay! He's <em>cute</em>."</p><hr/><p>It was almost the end of his workday; dinner was in an hour. Ivan put a hand to his chest, concerned. Since the morning, his heartbeat had been more erratic than usual, although it had also been stronger. Why…?</p><p>It was probably related to the fact that he'd been thinking of little else besides the events of last night. Shoveling through piles of paperwork, examining the reports on the latest campaigns—it had been a thoroughly unproductive day. The words disappeared across his vision whenever he recalled the scent of cardamom and apricot and summer, the overwhelming warmth.</p><p>Ivan had never felt anything like it before. Would he feel anything like it again?</p><p>His heart sped up.</p><p>No use. He couldn't concentrate. Deciding to call it a day—he wasn't going to get any more work done, that was for sure—Ivan left the office for his suite.</p><hr/><p>Alfred returned to the lounge twenty minutes after Ivan had finished his dinner. The angel had <em>War and Peace</em> tucked under his arm, and there was a grass stain on his tunic. He ignored Ivan in favor of the bowl of sliced apples on the dining table.</p><p>"Reading in the garden? I didn't pin you as a fan of Tolstoy."</p><p>Alfred settled down on the settee, flipping through the novel as he chewed. "I'm not. His stuff about fate and determinism is bullshit, especially since I'm the hero. I just read this for the descriptions of battles."</p><p>Ivan processed that for a second. "What kind of books do you like to read, then?"</p><p>Alfred narrowed his eyes at the demon suspiciously. "Physics," he said, voice curt. "Math." He bit off another chunk of apple and crunched it loudly.</p><p>Why was Braginsky so damn talkative today? Didn't he see that Alfred wasn't interested?</p><p>Ah, but wait. If the bastard was in the mood to talk, Alfred <em>did</em> have something that he wanted to discuss…</p><p>The angel closed the book and set it down on a nearby side table. He arched his back. With a rustle of feathery wings, Alfred gracefully stretched up and sauntered over to Ivan, swaying his hips. He dipped at the waist and draped his arms across the demon's shoulders.</p><p>He pressed close, until Ivan's nose was against the crook of his neck.</p><p>"Master," he cooed in a voice like melted sugar. "I was talking to Feliks today."</p><p>Ivan blinked. "Who?"</p><p>Alfred willed the seductive smile to stay on his lips. <em>Motherfucker</em>…</p><p>"The other angel here. The one you bought at the brothel."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Alfred sunk into Ivan's lap and looked up with imploring liquid eyes.</p><p>"Let him go, please?" He whimpered. "Aren't I enough for you?"</p><p>He licked his lips slowly, deliberately. Ivan's lavender eyes were glued to his tongue.</p><p><em>Hook, line, and sinker</em>.</p><p>Alfred batted his eyelashes a few times for good measure.</p><p>A faint blush began to creep up Ivan's cheeks. The demon opened his mouth, closed it.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, for the love of—</em>
</p><p>Alfred leaned up and flicked the shell of Ivan's ear with his tongue, then yelped in surprise as Ivan none too gently shoved the angel away.</p><p>"Alfred," Ivan took a deep breath to collect himself as the former general glowered up at him from the rug. "First of all, what are you doing? Did Yao's potions have a side effect I don't know about? And secondly, no. I can't just return a prostitute I purchased from a brothel."</p><p>Alfred sprawled back on the settee with a huff. Damn, so Braginsky did have more brain cells than Alfred gave him credit for. The guards in Francis' palace had been like goldfish—dumb and gulping every time Alfred played coy.</p><p>He picked up <em>War and Peace</em>.</p><p>"You're a real asshole, you know that, Braginsky? You suck."</p><p>Ivan sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. Alfred was so confusing. His actions made no sense whatsoever.</p><p>But last night—the sweetness of Alfred's kisses, his embraces…</p><p>"Do you have siblings?" Ivan winced at how abruptly the question came out.</p><p>Alfred stiffened.</p><p>"I have an older sister," Ivan offered. "She lives in a small village half a day's ride from here. I do not see her often, but she made me this as a gift." He motioned towards the tan scarf wrapped around his neck.</p><p>There was an awkward silence.</p><p>"No," Alfred said at length. "Closest thing I have to a brother is Arthur."</p><p>The angel straightened up. "Look, bastard, don't you have better stuff to do than bother me?"</p><p>"Nyet."</p><p>Alfred scowled at him. "You're pathetic."</p><p>"What does your middle initial stand for?"</p><p>"Fuck off."</p><p>One of the platinum blond's eyebrows twitched, but Ivan pushed on valiantly.</p><p>"What did you do for fun before you were captured?"</p><p>Alfred slammed his book shut with a long-suffering sigh. The asshole was obviously not going to leave him alone.</p><p>"I snuck to the human world."</p><p>"Snuck?"</p><p>"Heaven doesn't approve of angels going to the human realm."</p><p>"What did you do there?"</p><p>"…Stargaze," Alfred murmured reluctantly. Gods, he didn't want to talk about this stuff with Braginsky, of all people. He peeked at the demon; Ivan wore an intrigued expression on his face.</p><p>
  <em>What in Tartarus?</em>
</p><p>"We do not have stars in the Underworld. The constant fog and mist that cloud the skies at night would obscure them, anyway. Tell me about the stars in the human world."</p><p>Alfred rested his head on the arm of the settee. He stared at the gilded scrolls on the ceiling.</p><p>"Um, I liked the constellations that would appear around the solstice," he said quietly. "Twice a year, in the summer and in the winter, I'd take a portal to a remote little town in the Midwest and find a grassy hill. Kansas. Minnesota, sometimes. A couple times, I went down south to Texas. There wasn't that much light pollution there, not if you were far enough from the cities. New Mexico was good, too.</p><p>"In late November and early December, you can see Orion the Hunter. You can tell it's Orion by the three stars in a straight row—that's Orion's Belt. And it's hard to miss Rigel and Betelgeuse, 'cause those are really bright. You can use them to find the twins, Pollux and Castor. Gemini is always nearby.</p><p>"It's also pretty easy to find Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia is there year-round. It's not too far from Polaris, the North Star. It looks like an M or W, and when it goes up, the Big Dipper goes down.</p><p>"In the summer, you've got Altair, Deneb, and Vega, which are the brightest stars in Aquila, Cygnus, and Lyra—actually, they're some of the brightest stars in the night sky. They make up the Summer Triangle.</p><p>"Stargazing is really fun, because a lot of the constellations have myths and stories attached to them and stuff. If I hadn't been worried about another angel catching me, I would have gone to an observatory and looked through the telescopes, maybe watched one of the shows at a planetarium, I hear they're nice…"</p><p>Alfred's voice trailed off.</p><p>Ivan looked stunned. His eyes, as they looked at Alfred, were soft.</p><p>Alfred shivered, startled. This was getting too weird. He turned to the mantel clock above the fireplace.</p><p>It was late.</p><p>Ivan must have had the same thought, because he followed Alfred's gaze, then stood up.</p><p>"Ah, Alfred…"</p><p>Sapphire eyes dull, Alfred obediently accompanied the demon general to the bedroom.</p><hr/><p>Alfred grimaced from where he was pressed against the demon's chest. The bastard was smothering him again. One arm was wrapped tightly around him like a band of iron.</p><p>Alfred wriggled out of the hold with difficulty, pushed himself up on Ivan's chest, and propped up on an elbow to glare at the demon.</p><p>"Braginsky," he snapped.</p><p>Ivan blearily opened an eye.</p><p>"If you're angry or horny or some shit like that, you take it out on me, not on Feliks, got it?"</p><p>"...Who?"</p><p><em>Are you fucking serious? </em>Alfred almost tossed his hands into the air in exasperation.</p><p>"The angel you bought from the brothel! The one I asked you to let go of today, and you said no."</p><p>"Da, da," the demon general mumbled, before he started to snore.</p><p>Alfred huffed and curled back into Ivan's side. What a complete <em>asshole</em>.</p><hr/><p>"Mister—uh, I mean, Alfred?"</p><p>Alfred looked up from his card game with Feliks. "What's up, Toris?"</p><p>Toris shifted nervously. "Do you think you can help me with something?"</p><p>"Sure! I owe you one for letting Feliks crash with you, so whatever you want, buddy!"</p><p>"Um, could you please deliver lunch to Master Braginsky? I'd do it myself, but one of the servants made a huge mess of the household accounts for last week and it'll take me the whole morning, maybe even the whole afternoon, to work through it."</p><p>The smile froze on Alfred's face.</p><p>"Uh, yeah, of course, Toris."</p><p>Toris sagged in relief. "<em>Amazing</em>. He's in his office for lunch, it's on the second floor, down the hall from his suite. I pick up the plate, too, an hour after I drop off lunch. You won't have to talk to him, he's usually focused on his work."</p><p>"Got it."</p><p>"Thank you <em>so </em>much, Alfred."</p><p>"Yeah, no problem, dude."</p><hr/><p>Ivan blinked in surprise when Alfred entered his office with a tray of kotlety and kompot.</p><p>"Alfred?" He asked uncertainly. "Where's Toris?"</p><p>"Busy." Alfred dropped the tray on Ivan's desk. Ivan frowned as some of the kompot splattered on the first page of a report.</p><p>"Be back in an hour. Bye."</p><p>Ivan stared as Alfred slammed the door. Alfred had lost the wager—that explained the mind-blowing sex, but not the odd way he was behaving yesterday. And now lunch service?</p><p>Worrying at his lip, Ivan reached for the phone.</p><hr/><p>"General Braginsky! Are you well? Has the issue with dear Alfred been resolved?"</p><p>Ivan was suddenly very aware of the thrumming in his veins. <em>Alfred, clenching tight around him, licking sinful patterns into his skin, enveloping him in molten honey</em>. "Yes, my king," he choked out. "Yes, Alfred's doing well."</p><p>"Oh, good!" The monarch sounded relieved. There was a brief pause. "Ah, General…. Are <em>you</em> all right?" Ivan detected a note of concern in his voice.</p><p>Not trusting himself to speak, the demon remained silent.</p><p>"Ivan?" Francis ventured cautiously. When there was still no response on the other side of the line, the king tapped his Montblanc against the edge of his writing desk, an old nervous habit.</p><p>Across from him, Arthur glanced up from his paperwork. "Something wrong?"</p><p>Francis held up a finger to request silence as he heard a murmured answer in the receiver.</p><p>"<em>Mon cher</em>, I am dreadfully sorry, but I'm afraid that I didn't catch that. Could you please repeat what you said?"</p><p>Francis heard a throat clearing. "Erm, yes, my king. I am fine. I merely called to inquire about something in regards to Alfred. He has been acting, um, strangely. I am not quite sure what to make of his unusual behavior."</p><p>Francis' brow creased. "Unusual in what way?"</p><p>"He has been rather… enthusiastic, as of late."</p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>Fighting down a chuckle—he doubted that Ivan would take kindly to it—Francis leaned back in his chair. "Enthusiastic, hm?" He purred. "Well, do not be concerned, Ivan. In fact, please <em>do </em>lie back and enjoy the ride. I assure you that you are in capable hands—darling Alfred was the finest pupil I've ever had the pleasure of training in the art of <em>l'amour. </em>He took to it like a natural. His enthusiasm, of course, played no small part in his success.</p><p>"Say," Francis said, curious. "Has he shown you that thing he can do with his tongue yet?" He ducked the pen that Arthur threw at him. His consort was so protective of the younger angel sometimes, it was endearing. Never mind that Arthur had been in the room, himself, for much of Alfred's pleasure training.</p><p>There was a loud clatter on the other end, as if the phone had been dropped on hardwood.</p><p>"Ivan?"</p><p>"Er, um, I'm sorry, my king, but I am not sure that I know of what you are referring to," Ivan said prudishly. Then, tone hushed—"Alfred can do a <em>lot </em>of things." He sounded a bit like he was in awe.</p><p>Francis couldn't resist the urge any longer; he chuckled. "Yes, yes, the boy is talented and in possession of many charms. If I may—how did you get Alfred to open up? He was incredibly shy when he first entered my palace."</p><p>"We had a wager, and he lost."</p><p>"Ah, a wager… lovely." Francis' voice sounded strained to his ears, but maybe Ivan wouldn't notice. <em>Of course</em> Alfred would only behave affectionately after he was forced into it by his own obstinacy.</p><p>Still…</p><p><em>I win the bet</em>, Francis mouthed to Arthur. His consort made a rude gesture and left the room.</p><p>"Well, congratulations, Ivan!" Francis injected fake cheer into his speech. "I will send along a gift to celebrate the occasion." Before Ivan could reply, Francis hung up the phone.</p><p>Francis thanked the gods that Arthur couldn't see him as he ran a hand through his perfectly-styled hair, sending strands falling out of place. Heaven knows his consort had looked worse in the mornings before his tea, but Francis had a reputation and an image to uphold.</p><p>Yes, he had won, Francis reflected, and Arthur would at last don the outfit of a pirate captain as they reenacted lurid sexual scenes from human history—the emerald-eyed angel hadn't thought that Alfred would <em>willingly </em>lie with Ivan—but it was a hollow victory.</p><p>When Alfred had first entered the palace, the boy had expected nothing but brutality and pain. Who could have faulted him? The sweetheart knew only of what he had seen on the battlefield. Yet even after his training, Alfred remained defiantly resistant to the pleasures of love.</p><p>Arthur had mentioned, once, that it had been due to the boy's upbringing. All of the Light generals had been separated from their families at an early age to be educated in their respective specialties, and, well, Alfred had been culled to be cultivated in defense. It was wholly possible—lacking the experience and maturity to distinguish between his public role and his personal life, between war and love—the former general had taken his lessons on the battleground a little <em>too</em> close to heart.</p><p>In the months that he had Alfred in his care, the king had tried his hardest to teach the boy that love did not necessitate the same cruelties as war.</p><p>Alfred, the bright boy, was a quick study. On some level, however, Francis knew that he had failed in his instruction: Alfred had taken entirely the wrong lessons from his training. He used the delightful techniques that Francis had showed him as a means to an end. He wielded his sexuality as a weapon, treated his body as a mere tool.</p><p>Francis had to only look to what Alfred had done to his unsuspecting guards for proof. The way that Alfred had played them like so many well-tuned fiddles could have been considered barbaric, had Alfred not been so guileless and utterly devoid of malice in his manipulations. The naïve, adorable darling had wanted things—more than things, he had wanted to feel in control, to feel like he had a little power—and he had gotten them in the only way that he knew how.</p><p>Francis sighed. Alfred was so unwilling to accept any form of love, so oblivious to his own need to be cherished, yet so, so <em>sweet</em>—</p><p>It was a shame, truly, that Alfred had to be forced into whatever one-sided game he was playing with his new master. Ivan probably hadn't even realized that he was a part of it.</p><p>Well, Francis would help the poor, misguided dear however he could. The demon monarch set down his fountain pen and departed for the maids' quarters.</p><p>Emma and Lucille would surely be able to conjure up an infinitely self-filling bottle of warming oil, especially after they heard whom it was for.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A miscommunication over a picnic leads to a planetarium show and stargazing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Well, the household accounts had apparently been a bigger mess than Toris had feared, so Alfred was still bringing lunch to the office a week later. He pushed open the heavy doors and made directly for the acacia tray.</p><p>It was untouched.</p><p>Alfred scowled. Braginsky had given Alfred so much shit for wasting food, and now <em>he </em>was the one skipping meals? What a fucking hypocrite. Alfred opened his mouth to give the asshole a mouthful, then noticed the wet shine on the cheeks of the figure hunched over a stack of paperwork.</p><p>Braginsky looked downright <em>miserable</em>.</p><p>The sight would have cheered Alfred up immensely, had there not been a half-empty bottle of vodka and a filled glass next to the tray.</p><p>Fuck, Braginsky had been drinking. Some shit must have gone down for him to start so early—he never drank before he finished work at five.</p><p>Alfred tilted his head slightly to read the report closest to him. A Manticore attack. A hundred men died before the beast was finally taken down.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>"Hey," Alfred muttered against his better judgment. "You okay, asshole?"</p><p>"Go away, Jones." Ivan's voice was muffled. He had buried his face into his scarf.</p><p>Ugh, Alfred remembered when Arthur got like this. Something would happen at work—a failed mission, too many casualties—that made Arthur go to the nearest pub and drown his sorrows in liquor. He used to get drunk off his ass, and Alfred had to be the one to drag him back to base. He slobbered all over Alfred, and after he forced a glass of water down Arthur's throat and tucked the older angel into bed, Alfred usually had to change his clothes because of all the tears and snot.</p><p>Arthur was a sad drunk. Braginsky looked sad <em>right now</em>, but every time Alfred had seen the demon drunk, he had been angry. Did Alfred really want to deal with a currently-sad-but-potentially-angry-later drunk who liked to fuck him dry and beat him up with a pipe?</p><p>Alfred seriously deliberated on the question for all of two seconds before he decided that the answer to the question was a resounding <em>fuck no</em>.</p><p>Spinning on his heels, Alfred left for the kitchens. He'd bug Toris, and Toris would probably give him what he wanted because Toris was a nice guy and also because Alfred was kind of saving Toris' ass here by being Braginsky's lunch bitch.</p><p>Toris owed him. Big time.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan untangled himself from the scarf when the doors opened again and Alfred burst in, the handle of a picnic basket clutched in his fist.</p><p>"Get off your ass, bastard," the angel snarled. "You're coming with me."</p><p>In a few strides, Alfred was at the large executive desk, dragging the platinum blond up by his arm.</p><p>"Alfred, what—"</p><p>"<em>Shut up</em>."</p><p>Ivan closed his mouth, perplexed, as Alfred manhandled him down the stairs in the direction of the gardens.</p><p>Alfred let go once they were at the patch of sunflowers. He pulled out a blanket from the basket and spread it out on the grass.</p><p>"Sit down," the angel ordered as he started to unpack the contents of the basket: a covered container of pirozhki, a small tub of okroshka, and a thermos of chamomile tea. Alfred dropped a fork and a spoon next to the spread.</p><p>At a loss for words, Ivan obediently plopped down next to Alfred and reached for the food.</p><p>"…When I was really young, Arthur would take me secretly to the human world on what he called 'educational excursions,' but were really just an excuse for him to get alcohol that was prohibited in Heaven."</p><p>Surprised, Ivan scooted a little closer to hear better. Alfred didn't move away.</p><p>"One time, he lost me in a small prairie town in Nebraska while he was looking for absinthe. I don't think he found it, but when he found me, I was playing with a bison. Arthur was so scared, I thought he was gonna piss himself. He was afraid the bison was going to trample me, but then I started swinging it around by its front hooves. I was always pretty strong. Arthur fainted from the shock." Alfred snickered at the memory.</p><p>"Honestly, it was pretty funny, especially since Arthur has these eyebrows that look like caterpillars. They started twitching all over the place."</p><p>He used to tell Arthur lighthearted stories like that when Arthur was worn out from crying, before he fell asleep—of course, the stories back then had been about him and Mattie, but no fucking way in Tartarus was he gonna let Braginsky know about his twin brother. If that asshole didn't know Mattie existed, then he couldn't hurt him.</p><p>Alfred peeked at Ivan from the corner of his eye. The demon had a faint smile on his face.</p><p>What else…. Oh, the time that he saw Arthur petting his imaginary friends was kind of funny, albeit traumatizing.</p><p>"Arthur has a bunch of imaginary friends, he's always insisting that they exist but I think he's just got a few screws loose. There's a bunch of fairies, a unicorn, and this one that he calls the Flying Mint Bunny…"</p><p>The afternoon passed by in the sun, molasses-slow. Occasionally, the sound of soft laughter broke through the droning of bees and the rustle of sunflower heads brushing against one another.</p>
<hr/><p>Eyes blank, Alfred smiled down at Ivan from where he was riding the tall demon. He traced a line tenderly down Ivan's side with his fingers, then bent down and lapped at the underside of the demon's jaw.</p><p>Ivan moaned. Alfred was being so gentle, <em>so</em> sweet tonight… A look of rapture spread across the platinum blond's face as the angel kissed down his chest, pausing to lavish attention on a nipple.</p><p>Hm, Alfred hoped that this was working. Francis had yelled at him at the palace, once, pretty early on, when Alfred had apparently neglected to read "the atmosphere," whatever that was. One of the guards had just broken up with his long-term girlfriend; Francis told Alfred to comfort him.</p><p>Well, Alfred was just what he usually did when the guard had suddenly started crying, sobbing something incoherent about how much he missed her. Alfred had shrugged, gotten up, jerked the guy off, laughed a little while doing it—his dick was tiny—and started walking away.</p><p>The guard had curled up and cried harder. Francis came in right about then.</p><p>"Alfred, <em>no</em>," Francis had called after him, horrified. "What have you done to poor Jacques?"</p><p>Ah, good times. The blue-eyed angel silently sent a prayer to the gods to smite Jacques with bachelorhood and loneliness for the rest of his days. The guy had been an absolute pain in the ass.</p><p>Alfred rolled his hips, angling to get the cock inside him against his sweet spot, and Ivan choked out a gasp.</p>
<hr/><p>A few days later, there was a note on the nightstand.</p><p>Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Alfred snagged the piece of paper as he picked up his glasses.</p><p>"Meet me in the gardens at 6 tonight," the note read in Ivan's neat, curving script.</p><p>Alfred tossed the note back on the nightstand.</p><p>Weird.</p><p>He would go, in case the bastard threw a hissy fit. Or started drinking. Maybe Ivan wanted to fuck him under the sunflowers. Who even knew what was going on in Braginsky's head anymore. Not him, that's for sure. The guy was insane.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan was studying something small and shiny in his hand when Alfred arrived; he put it in his pocket when he saw the angel.</p><p>Alfred raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"A precautionary measure," Ivan explained. "In case you decide to run away while we are in the human world."</p><p>The blue-eyed blond gaped at him. "You're taking me to the human world?"</p><p>Ivan shrugged. "There is a planetarium show at eight. I have tickets."</p><p>Alfred must be hallucinating—there was no way in Heaven this was real, but Ivan was talking again.</p><p>"—anyway, hold my hand."</p><p>"What? <em>No</em>."</p><p>Ivan nonchalantly reached for his pocket again. "I have a leash, if that's what you'd prefer."</p><p>Alfred gripped Ivan's hand. It was dry and calloused. Emma would have shrieked and demanded some lotion,<em> pronto</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>They emerged from a portal at the back of a bakery. Instead of a light tunic with leggings, Alfred was wearing an open hoodie, pop art shirt, and skinny jeans with red high-tops. Ivan was dressed in a black peacoat, navy slacks, and boots. The tan scarf was wrapped around his neck. Their wings and Ivan's horns were gone, made invisible by Alfred's glamour and Ivan's illusion.</p><p>No one was really certain how the teleportation magic worked when it came to clothes, except that they changed to whatever wearer was thinking of at the moment. At least it was convenient, and the clothes always fit.</p><p>Alfred took an appreciative sniff—the air smelled like freshly baked bread and apple pie.</p><p>Ivan glanced at him as they walked out of the alley. "Hungry?"</p><p>"Yeah!"</p><p>Ivan hummed. "What do you want?"</p><p>Alfred's eyes lit up as he saw a flash of yellow down the street.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan watched, disgusted, as Alfred shoved another Big Mac into his mouth. There was already a pile of wrappers in front of him.</p><p>"You are not even chewing, Alfred."</p><p>Alfred waved him away. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he said, slurping at his third vanilla milkshake. "I haven't had anything but fruit in <em>so"—</em>gulp—"<em>long</em>."</p><p>He crumpled up the last wrapper and put the empty cup down, satisfied.</p><p>"Hey," Alfred perked up, seeing the unopened box on Ivan's tray. "You gonna eat that?"</p><p>Ivan sighed and slid the hamburger over. He had lost his appetite, seeing Alfred—it couldn't even be called eating—<em>inhale</em> the over-processed junk.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan scowled down at the small object in his hand. Francis had said that the compass would function as a tracker for Alfred's bracelets in the human world. It didn't work in the demon world, for some reason.</p><p>It was useless, though. The needle theoretically should have pointed to Alfred's location, but instead it had just turned Ivan around in a circle before glowing once and starting to spin wildly.</p><p>Alfred had been there, right behind Ivan, until a minute ago. Ivan thought he was holding the angel's wrist, but when he had turned to check, the golden blond was gone. The massacre at the fast food restaurant had already put him in a foul mood, and now this—</p><p>Ivan heard a meow from the entrance of an alley beside him.</p><p>"Aw, who's a good girl?"</p><p>Ivan relaxed slightly and shoved the compass pack into his coat pocket. Inside the dark alley, Alfred had buried his hand wrist-deep into cat fur, and was whispering to the fluffy creature with an expression of utter infatuation on his face.</p><p>"Alfred."</p><p>"Yeah, just give me a second." The angel rubbed the cat one last time behind the ears and let her leave with a sigh of regret. He straightened up and saw Ivan's frown.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I told you to stick close to me."</p><p>Alfred rolled his eyes. "Calm down, would ya? There's still an hour before the show starts."</p><p>Ivan grunted and stretched out his hand. Alfred took it reluctantly.</p>
<hr/><p>Alfred wasn't budging, and Ivan pulled at him for the nth time with a growl of frustration. The brat was so easily distracted—this trip to the human world was looking like a worse idea by the minute. What silly thing had snatched up Alfred's attention now?</p><p>The demon glanced back. They were next to a video game store, and Alfred's gaze was lingering on one of the games on display.</p><p>Ivan took a closer look. There was a soldier holding handguns on the clamshell. <em>Call of Duty: Black Ops</em>.</p><p>"It looks <em>so </em>fun," Alfred whimpered, longing clear in his voice.</p><p>"Jones," Ivan kneaded at the bridge of his nose with one hand. "We are going to be late at this rate."</p><p>Alfred looked like a kicked puppy.</p><p>"<em>Guns.</em>" The angel pawed at his master's arm pathetically. His enormous sapphires welled up.</p><p>Ivan's eye twitched. <em>This </em>was the ruthless general who had made a mockery of the Dark army?</p><p>"…Fine," he ground out. "But no more distractions after this."</p><p>"Yay!" Alfred cheered. The tears instantly vanished as he tugged Ivan through the glass doors of the store. "You also need to get a gaming console and other stuff. You only have that TV in your room. I don't know why you never turn it on, it's a nice flatscreen. Back in Heaven, I had the sickest gaming setup <em>ever</em>…"</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan set the plastic bag containing the PlayStation and game down at his feet.</p><p>Next to him, Alfred was squirming with excitement.</p><p>"Settle down, Alfred," Ivan patted the angel on the arm, chuckling. "The show will begin soon."</p><p>Alfred kicked his legs and threw himself back into the seat. "I can't help it," he said with a pout. "I've wanted to see one of these for <em>decades</em>. I can't believe I'm finally here—"</p><p>Alfred cut himself off with a gasp as intricate depictions of constellations appeared on the domed screen overhead.</p><p>"<em>Cool</em>." The golden blond was completely entranced.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan tried, yet again, to focus on what the narrator was saying, but it was futile. At some point during the show, Alfred had absently leaned into the demon beside him. The warmth radiating from the angel was impossible to ignore.</p><p>The lenses of Alfred's glasses were streaked with the reflected pinks and purples of the Northern Lights projected above, and behind them, his eyes were shining and full.</p><p>Alfred appeared absolutely spellbound. His rose lips were curved into a beatific smile.</p><p><em>Gods</em>, Ivan wanted to kiss those soft lips. But Alfred would shy away. He was sure of it.</p><p>He swallowed. Would Alfred mind…? He surreptitiously slid an arm behind Alfred's shoulder.</p><p>The angel didn't so much as twitch.</p>
<hr/><p>When the show ended, Alfred blinked once before he noticed how close Ivan was. The amethyst gaze, that small smile, <em>when had Braginsky's arm gotten behind him</em>—Alfred immediately recoiled.</p><p>Ivan had looked at him like how Alfred had felt when he saw Call of Duty, and that was <em>not</em> okay.</p>
<hr/><p>The walk back to the portal was quiet.</p><p>Ivan was in front and Alfred was a few feet behind, fingertips clasped in the demon's iron grip.</p><p>The demon veered.</p><p>"Wha-?" Alfred started. Ivan didn't respond.</p><p>They stopped at the top of a grassy hill.</p><p>"You said that you liked stargazing, did you not?"</p><p>Alfred wordlessly sat down on the ground. He reclined back in the grass. Ivan lay down next to him.</p><p>The night sky was an expanse of shimmering velvet above them.</p><p>"Oh, it's so clear tonight," Alfred sighed happily. He raised up a hand. "There's Orion's Belt! You can see the three stars," he said, running his finger down in a diagonal motion. "Alnilam, Alnitak and Mintaka. And the Orion Nebula, just below them. It's in Orion's Sword—it's the one that looks like the fuzzy star.</p><p>"The Orion Nebula is part of the Orion Molecular Cloud Complex. Well, a lot of the Orion constellation is in the Orion Complex, along with a bunch of other nebulae. New stars are always forming there."</p><p>Alfred paused. "Wait, do you even know what I'm talking about?"</p><p>"Da, da."</p><p>"You're lying," Alfred accused, narrowing his eyes. "You've just been staring at me, instead of the stars." The angel nibbled at his lip. "Yeah… I guess it's kind of hard to see where I'm pointing, especially since it's so dark."</p><p>Alfred wiggled closer until he was practically on top of Ivan.</p><p>The demon lost his breath. Alfred was wholly oblivious as he grabbed Ivan's hand.</p><p>"Here," he said as he gestured upwards with Ivan's fingers entwined in his own. "Do you see it now? Orion, the Hunter. According to the myths, he was able to slay any beast.</p><p>"The blue-white star right there is Rigel. It's the brightest one in the constellation." Alfred guided Ivan's hand across to the other side of Orion. "And that orange-red one is Betelgeuse."</p><p>Alfred pointed to various constellations and stars—Gemini, Cassiopeia, Polaris—until his arm got tired. He dropped it with a yawn, and cuddled into the warm body beneath. Huh, so Ivan actually emitted body heat in the human world.</p><p>"Hey," he murmured drowsily. "Tonight was really awesome, Ivan. Thanks."</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan stared at the cloudless winter sky, dazed, long after Alfred had fallen asleep. <em>Alfred had called him by his name.</em></p><p>The angel suddenly shivered; Ivan broke out of his reverie. It was getting chilly. He carefully nudged Alfred off of him, then stood up. He was about to scoop up the golden blond in his arms when he remembered the purchases he had made earlier in the evening.</p><p>Ah…</p><p>The demon lifted Alfred and adjusted his limbs so that the boy was draped across his shoulders. Bag bumping against the back of his legs, Ivan carried Alfred piggyback to the portal, to the Underworld, to the castle, back to his chambers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The drama amps up a bit again next chapter, but we are in fluff territory now.  Please don’t be shy—I love hearing your thoughts!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ivan leaves on a campaign. Alfred makes a new friend.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun was streaming through the glass balcony doors when Alfred finally blinked awake. It was a gorgeous day outside; Alfred admired the white, fluffy clouds for a minute before the memories of last night rushed back. He had gotten sleepy while showing Ivan the constellations—had Ivan carried him back?</p><p>Alfred looked around. The demon was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>Last night had been kind of really fun. The planetarium show was <em>amazing</em>, and the sky had been beautiful and clear.</p><p>But... why did Ivan do that for him? With him? He was Ivan's prisoner. Braginsky hated him. The feeling was mutual.</p><p>There was the sound of footsteps, and the bedroom door opened. Ivan came in bearing a plate of something that glistened like rubies. Alfred's eyes widened.</p><p>"Are those...?"</p><p>"Da." Ivan sat down at the edge of the bed and offered the strawberries to Alfred.</p><p>The angel picked up the largest one and nibbled into it.</p><p>"<em>Oh</em>," he moaned. His eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure and his eyelids fluttered. "It's <em>delicious." </em>He licked his lips to swipe off a few drops of juice.</p><p>Ivan made an interesting sound, kind of a cross between a moose call and a goose honk. Alfred ignored it in lieu of sucking out the rest of the juice from the berry.</p><p>Ivan made the sound again, but louder.</p><p>Alfred narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the other as he chomped down on another strawberry. The noises were odd, but Ivan had been super weird lately anyway—the trip to the human world had come out of nowhere. He hadn't even wanted to fuck Alfred afterwards.</p><p>And now giving Alfred his favorite fruit? Ivan must have gone to the human world for them earlier this morning. They weren't as sweet as the ones in the Underworld, but still pretty decent.</p><p>"Hey, Braginsky, what's wrong with you? You've been weird as fuck," Alfred said bluntly. "Why are you being so nice, all of a sudden?" Alfred swallowed his mouthful. "Is this like a demonic ritual? Treat your prisoners before killing them? You gonna eviscerate me for some Dark god soon? 'Cause if you are, I'd like some advance notice—"</p><p>Ivan's face darkened. "No, Jones," he ground out between gritted teeth. "This is not some Dark ritual. Shut up and eat your breakfast."</p><p>Alfred shrugged. "'Kay." He made quick work of the rest of the strawberries, then set the plate down on the nightstand and stretched luxuriously. Alfred sighed in satisfaction as he heard his joints pop. His wings rustled.</p><p>"So what's the plan for today?" Alfred casually asked as he combed a hand loosely through his hair.</p><p>Ivan stared at the sight of the angel tousling his golden locks for a second too long. "Uh, I do not have any prior arrangements. I do not need to work this weekend."</p><p>Alfred grimaced. "You're such a workaholic. You need to learn to have some fun. Hey!"—Ivan suddenly found himself with a lapful of bouncing angel—"Play CoD with me?" Alfred batted his eyelashes.</p><p>"…All right."</p><hr/><p>They played through lunch and dinner, grabbing bites between multiplayer matches.</p><p>Alfred laughed maniacally as they decimated the other team, and whooped when they won. He grinned at Ivan, excitement and wild fire lighting his eyes. "Hey, man, you're pretty good at this now!"</p><p>Ivan smiled back. "Da, but it is too easy. More fun when we are on opposing teams, yes?"</p><p>Alfred nodded. "For sure." Ivan had picked up the mechanics of the game fast, for someone who wasn't into video games. He had good reflexes, and was absolutely ruthless. He was almost as good a shot as Alfred after a day of playing, too. When they joined a game on the same team, quite a few of the players on the opposing team quit before it started.</p><p>"One more round?" Alfred turned to Ivan hopefully.</p><p>Ivan cracked his back. He had been sitting in the same position on the bed for a while. Alfred was sprawled out next to him, propped up on a stack of pillows.</p><p>Ivan put aside the controller and gently placed a hand on the angel's head. He ran the silky strands through his fingers.</p><p>"Tomorrow, Alfred. It's getting late."</p><p>Alfred tensed, but set aside his controller without protest.</p><hr/><p>"Alfred."</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"Alfred, you're not looking at me."</p><p>The golden blond sighed and tilted his head up. "Happy?"</p><p>Ivan frowned. Alfred's cerulean eyes—brilliant and sparkling a few hours ago, when they were playing together—were dull and empty.</p><p>The angel was straddling his thighs, poised to lower himself down on Ivan's erection. Ivan reached out a hand to cup Alfred's face.</p><p>"Are you not enjoying this?"</p><p>Alfred closed his eyes. "Look, can we just get on with it? My legs are cramping up."</p><p>"If you are uncomfortable, we can switch positions. I can take care of you—"</p><p>Alfred's eyes snapped open and he impaled himself fully on Ivan in one thrust, biting back the hiss of pain. The rest of the demon's sentence died in a groan.</p><p>"<em>No</em>," the former general snarled, voice rough. "If you want me willing, Braginsky, then you'll lie back and let me do my thing."</p><p>Without waiting for Ivan to respond, Alfred started to viciously rock his hips. He smirked in satisfaction as the demon fell apart, moaning. Thank Heaven for that self-warming oil Francis had sent. It didn't feel like he was fucking an icicle anymore.</p><p>Fun gaming partner or not, no way in Tartarus was Ivan <em>ever </em>snatching that power away from Alfred.</p><p>Alfred wouldn't let him. Whenever Braginsky was on top, it<em> hurt, </em>the brute.</p><hr/><p>It was after midnight, and he should be sleeping. Instead, Ivan was examining the moonlight-drenched angel curled up by his side. Sex with Alfred had been incredible as always. What happened that evening, however, bothered him.</p><p>He had truly thought that Alfred was deriving pleasure from their nightly activities, but Alfred's eyes, so blank and devoid of emotion, so <em>dead</em>, haunted him. Had they always looked like that when Alfred made love to him?</p><p>Ivan worried at his lip as he heard a quiet whine. Alfred's brow was furrowed, and he was twisting around in the sheets. Carefully, so as to not wake him, Ivan gathered the golden blond in his arms.</p><p>"Davie," Alfred mumbled, and whimpered. The scent of apricots and cardamom was steadily spreading through the room.</p><p>"It's all right, Fredka," Ivan soothed, petting Alfred's hair and rubbing his back. "Do not fret. You are safe here."</p><hr/><p>Last night had been <em>terrible</em>. There had been another nightmare about Davie, a really bad one. He had dreamed of the rotting skull that Francis' guards returned from Tartarus with. It had been his blue eyes inside Davie's empty eye sockets.</p><p>Alfred shuddered as the image reemerged in his consciousness. Beside him, Ivan shifted.</p><p>"Fredka? Are you okay?"</p><p>He glowered at the demon. "What did you call me?"</p><p>Ivan sat up. "Fredka. It is a diminutive of your name. A nickname."</p><p>Alfred's eyes were already guarded. At Ivan's explanation, something in them shuttered closed. Without a word, Alfred slipped out of the bed and stalked to the bathroom.</p><p>Ivan watched him leave with a heavy feeling of dread. He had done something wrong, had crossed some unspoken line; Alfred was upset. Gnawing at his lip, Ivan went over to the wardrobe and began to get dressed. He did not need to work today, not technically, but Alfred was angry at him and there was little else to occupy his time.</p><p>Work would take his mind off of it. There <em>was</em> the campaign that the king had assigned to him, which he had been putting off…</p><hr/><p>"Fredka."</p><p>Alfred didn't respond from where he was eating plums on the settee.</p><p>"Alfred."</p><p>The angel did not slow his chewing, but inclined his head.</p><p>"I am leaving for three days. There is a campaign that I must see to. I will set out tomorrow."</p><p>"Take me with you," Alfred said immediately.</p><p>Ivan blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me?"</p><p>The former general turned to face him. "I want to go. I've been cooped up in this castle forever. I'm bored as fuck. There's nothing to do here."</p><p>"The video game…"</p><p>"Too easy. I finished all the missions today while you were gone."</p><p>"You are not coming with me, Alfred. It is too dangerous." Ivan carded a hand through his hair. "I will get you more games."</p><p>Alfred glared at him. "I want books, too."</p><p>"Da, da, give me a list."</p><p>Alfred huffed and returned to his plums.</p><p>Feeling like he had just been dismissed, and not too kindly at that, Ivan exited the lounge.</p><hr/><p>Ivan headed to his chambers. Although he was due to depart in an hour, the feeling of discomfort and unease in Ivan's stomach had not yet settled.</p><p>Alfred had taken the requested items, then proceeded to behave coldly towards Ivan for the rest of the evening, doubtlessly still upset about being denied a chance to leave the castle. Perhaps after Alfred saw his gifts, he would forget his grudge.</p><p>Ivan entered the lounge. The angel was nestled on the ledge of the bay windows, reading.</p><p>"Alfred."</p><p>He didn't look up. Ivan stroked the bundle cradled in the crook of his elbow. The bundle meowed.</p><p>Alfred shoved his book aside, not even bothering to mark the page. "Give it here, Braginsky. <em>Now</em>."</p><p>Ivan chuckled. "Her name is Blinchiki. You may call her Blini." He plopped the cream-colored cat into Alfred's outstretched arms.</p><p>Alfred was already cooing at the Persian. "Hi there, sweetheart! My name is Alfred! Alfred F. Jones."</p><p>Blini meowed again. <em>You are but a mere peasant. I will address you as Servant only</em>.</p><p>Alfred looked enthralled. "You understand me! Aw, aren't you just the cutest?" Something soft was suddenly draped over him. Alfred pulled it off. It looked like a white fur cloak of some sort, with silver trimming.</p><p>"Hm? Ivan, what's this?"</p><p>"In case you get cold. It's rabbit with a fox fur collar, it will keep you warm."</p><p>Alfred flopped onto the rug and rolled himself and Blini into the cloak. Blini hissed in complaint.</p><p>"I must go, Alfred. Blini will keep you company in my absence."</p><p>"Yeah, okay, bye." The angel shooed him away.</p><p>Ivan rolled his eyes, but smiled. Alfred really was adorable, even if his manners could use some work.</p><hr/><p>Alfred chucked away his controller to the side. He'd finished the new games in two days, and the multiplayer matches were impossible—most of the other players exited the game when they recognized his display name. As much as he hated to admit it, video games weren't much fun without Ivan. The other general had great instincts, and was a good shot besides.</p><p>Blini was lying on her back next to him. She extended her paws into the air. Alfred obligingly rubbed her belly. She scratched his arm—"Ow!"—and meowed. <em>Ears, chin, and cheeks only, Servant</em>. <em>The tummy is off-limits.</em></p><p>"Blini, baby, I love you, but I have no idea what you're saying. I don't speak cat." He stroked the patch of brown fur around her neck that made her look like she was bundled in a scarf. Blini kneaded Alfred's leg with her front paws.</p><p>"Are you hungry, sweetheart? Do you want to go look for Toris with me?"</p><p>Blini got up with a little shake of her tail. She stared at Alfred expectantly.</p><p>Alfred laughed and scooped her up. "I'm hungry, too! Maybe Feliks will be hanging around Toris—you'd like him, Blini."</p><hr/><p>As it turned out, Blini had not cared too much for the other angel. He probably should have told Feliks that Blini didn't like to be touched on her tummy, Alfred reflected as they walked back to the suite. The green-eyed blond was nursing several nasty scratches in the infirmary, and Toris had kicked him and Blini out of the kitchens after the cat had found the week's supply of salmon.</p><p>Alfred sighed. "Bad kitty. How did you even manage to open the fridge on your own?"</p><p>Padding regally ahead of him, Blini did not deign to reply.</p><p>"Wanna go out to the sunflower garden? There are some fish in the pond, you'd probably like them. Ivan said he'll be back tomorrow—maybe he'll have a toy for you. Or play Call of Duty with me. Dude," Alfred whined. "There's absolutely <em>nothing</em> to do here."</p><hr/><p>"Hey, Blini, sweetheart, what do you think is taking Ivan so long?"</p><p>The angel was snuggled up under the sheets with the cat. It had been a whole week since Ivan had left, and Alfred was bored to <em>tears</em>. He had long since finished the physics books that Ivan bought for him and discovered every spot where Blini liked to be petted.</p><p>Toris was busy with running the household, and Feliks was only fun to talk to for a couple of hours at a time. He and Feliks were pretty different people, when it came down to it. The other angel's interests revolved around makeup, fashion, ponies, and a human city called Warsaw. Alfred vaguely remembered the name from somewhere, but it was otherwise meaningless—when it came to places in the human world, he only really knew about the good ole U.S. of A.</p><p>Hm, should he go down to the arena and challenge a few demons to a fight? It'd be fun to stretch his wings.</p><p>No—Ivan had taken the key to the chest that held his sword with him.</p><p>Alfred squirmed to the edge of the bed and picked up the controller again.</p><p><em>Gods</em>, he was so bored.</p><p>Blini poked her head out from beneath the blankets and meowed.</p><p>
  <em>Servant, if you do not pet me right this second, I will defenestrate your precious game console.</em>
</p><p>Alfred launched Call of Duty. Where <em>was </em>Ivan? Ivan did say that he'd only be gone for three days, and it was well past that.</p><p>It wasn't that Alfred <em>missed </em>the guy—no way. Ivan might have called him a monster, but the demon wasn't exactly much better, himself. When Alfred had first heard about what the rival general had done to that innocent angelic village of civilians—all those poor women and children—he had been shaken for days. Afterwards, he had sworn to destroy Braginsky if it was the last thing he did.</p><p>Alfred huffed, annoyed, as more players left the match lobby.</p><p>Ivan would play with him. What was taking so long with the damn campaign?</p><p>Blini growled when Alfred showed no sign of paying her any attention, and—drawing upon her infinite-but-still-rapidly-dwindling well of patience—finally took matters into her own paws.</p><p>Blini's insistent nudging jolted Alfred out of his thoughts. "What?" An indignant meow. "Oh, sorry, sweetheart!" His fingers rubbed at the perfect spot behind her ears. She purred in delight.<em> Perhaps I will show mercy this time</em>. <em>It is not your fault that you are daft, after all.</em></p><p>Alfred didn't know why he was thinking about Ivan so much. Ivan beat him with his pipe and raped him. But then again, a lot of demons had fucked him when he hadn't wanted it, and he had a pretty high pain tolerance.</p><p>Like Lucille had said, his body wasn't his own in the Underworld. If he had let it affect him every time, he'd have been broken by now. Braginsky hadn't even been that bad, since the whole wager thing.</p><p>The golden blond shook his head.<em> Ivan </em>was<em> bad, though</em>. <em>War. Civilian village</em>.</p><p>Braginsky was a total asshole. A total asshole who gave Alfred Blini and a nice cloak and took him to the planetarium and star-gazed with him and bought him video games and played them with him.</p><p>Outside, the sun was starting to set, dying the clouds purple and pink like the Northern Lights.</p><p>Blini had curled up on his lap; Alfred gently nudged her off.</p><p>"Hey, girl, I'm going to see what's up with Ivan, okay? I-it's not that I'm worried or anything. I just want more strawberries. And someone to play CoD with me."</p><p>Meow. <em>You have the emotional competency of a biscuit. Also, you are getting fat.</em> Alfred laughed. "Yeah, you're right, Blini! All my decisions are awesome. I <em>am</em> the hero." He gave Blini a thumbs-up. "You know where to find Toris if you get hungry!"</p><hr/><p>Alfred had a rough idea of where Ivan was after digging through the stacks of paperwork in his office. Now he knew why the guy drank so much—if Alfred was forced to read through that many dull reports, he'd also have turned to liquor.</p><p>Snugly wrapped up in his warm cloak, the angel set out for the stables. He'd "borrow" a pegasus while Raivis, the stable boy, was away for dinner.</p><hr/><p>Berwald's evening abruptly went from bad to worse when one of his men entered his tent, panting.</p><p>"A pegasus with a rider is approaching from the west, sir."</p><p>"Apprehend them."</p><p>"Y-yes, sir."</p><p>Berwald dismissed the soldier. As General Braginsky's second-in-command, he was responsible for the troops in the event that something befell Ivan.</p><p>Berwald steepled his hands and dipped his head forward.</p><p>None of them had expected that would be two Manticores. One was dangerous enough. They had not brought enough men to deal with two of the foul creatures. Both had been killed in the end, but not without the demons suffering far too many casualties.</p><p>The first Manticore had slaughtered twenty men. It would have been more, had Ivan not been present with his powerful ice magic. The other had not killed anyone—Ivan had personally taken it on—but it had slashed the general across the chest, leaving enormous gashes.</p><p>The medic said that there was nothing that could be done. The wounds ran too deep. Ivan had lost too much blood. Infection was beginning to set in, and the general would die in a day, even sooner if he were moved in his current state.</p><p>The men were preparing the death shroud. After Ivan deceased, the platoon would bring the body back to the castle, where a burial ceremony would take place. Then Berwald would assume the role of the general, unless the king declared otherwise.</p><p>Berwald exhaled. Ivan was a good man, a good leader. His loss would be deeply felt.</p><p>The demon suddenly heard the sounds of a disturbance outside. The entrance to the tent twitched, and his soldiers dragged a scowling angel in.</p><p>"Hey, what's the big idea?" The angel complained as he shoved the hands restraining him away.</p><p>Berwald stared. It was Jones, former general and Ivan's bed slave.</p><p>"Why are you here?" He growled.</p><p>"Looking for Ivan," the angel peered around the tent, curious. "Where is he?"</p><p>"Ivan's not well. You shouldn't be here."</p><p>Jones stiffened. "What's wrong with him? Can I see him?"</p><p>"No. Go back to the castle."</p><p>"I'm not going anywhere until I see him."</p><p>"Jones," Berwald snapped. "You are making a nuisance of yourself. Return to the castle. One of the soldiers will escort you."</p><p>Alfred crossed his arms and frowned. "Look, uh"—"Berwald," a nearby demon supplied helpfully—"Berwald, Ivan said that he'd be gone for only three days. It's been a week. Francis gave me to Braginsky. I'm under his care. I deserve to know what happened to him."</p><p>Berwald felt a headache coming on. Jones was as stubborn as a mule—hadn't he heard Ivan say as much himself back when they were still at the battlefront, fighting against the Light army? Jones certainly didn't look like he was going to budge now.</p><p>Berwald brought a hand up to his temples. "Fine," he grunted. He nodded at a guard. "Take him to General Braginsky."</p><p>Gods, he hoped that he didn't regret this. But the man was dying—what was the worst that Jones could do?</p><hr/><p>The camp was small; in no time at all, Alfred was standing before a large tent. "General Braginsky is inside," the guard gestured. "No funny business, you hear me?"</p><p>"Yeah, yeah." Waving the guard away, Alfred ducked under the tent flap and briefly froze. Ivan was on a medical cot, body shivering uncontrollably. There were blood-soaked bandages swathed across his chest.</p><p>Alfred reached out a hand and placed two fingers to Ivan's scarred neck. The pulse was weak, almost nonexistent.</p><p>He leaned close. "Ivan," he said sharply. "Wake up." The demon showed no sign that he had heard.</p><p>Alfred slapped the general across the face. The guard flung open the flap as the sound echoed. "Hey, what are you doing?"</p><p>The golden blond smiled innocently at him. "Nothing, just trying to wake my master up. You can go back outside." The guard gaped for a minute, then reluctantly left.</p><p>Alfred pinched Ivan's side, hard. "Braginsky," he hissed.</p><p>Ivan's eyes finally cracked open.</p><p>"…Alfred?" His voice was hoarse.</p><p>"Ivan, take off my bracelets."</p><p>Ivan looked confused. "What?"</p><p>Alfred shoved his wrists in the demon's face. "Take. Them. Off."</p><p>"I—" Ivan's eyes were unfocused, glazed over with pain.</p><p>
  <em>"Ivan."</em>
</p><p>Licking his dry lips, barely conscious, Ivan placed his shaking hands over the enchanted bands. Under his touch, they expanded and loosened. Alfred easily slid them off.</p><p>The blue-eyed blond uttered a soft laugh as he felt the divine magic rolling off of him in waves.</p><p>His pupils glowed white. At last—it had been far too long since he had power like this.</p><hr/><p>Berwald jolted up when he felt the energy disturbance in the camp. He stumbled out of his tent and joined the crowd of men surging towards the medic tent.</p><p>Before Berwald could demand to know what happened, the guard who had been assigned to escort Jones staggered forward.</p><p>"It's bad," he gasped. "Jones has his magic back."</p><p>Berwald felt the blood in his veins freeze.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>The guard nodded, terrified. "I tried to get in, but there's a Light barrier. When I stabbed it with a bayonet, the blade bounced back."</p><p>Berwald immediately held up a hand to halt his men. The soldiers were already in position, guns locked and loaded, but if Jones' barrier deflected artillery, then the risk that someone could be hurt was too great.</p><p>The guard pulled back the tent flap. Behind the shimmering surface, Berwald could faintly make out the outlines of his commander and Jones. He squinted. The angel's fingers were splayed on Ivan's chest.</p><p>Berwald swore violently as a blinding light erupted from Jones' hands.</p><p><em>What had he done?</em> Berwald could see nothing behind the barrier, so bright that it was burning to even look at. He was a fool. What had he been <em>thinking</em>, letting that killing machine near Ivan when he was at his most defenseless? The killing machine that had been forced into Ivan's bed. Of course Jones would exact his revenge when his master was vulnerable. What else had Berwald imagined would happen?</p><p>Berwald collapsed to his knees in front of the opaque barrier. Jones had incinerated Ivan. Before the angel arrived, there would have at least been something left of the Dark general to bury.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Blini is my fav because she's the only one with half a brain cell in the castle. The boys are complete dumbasses</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alfred weighs his options as Ivan recovers. They sleep.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whenever Alfred had a fever, he got unbearably hot.</p><p>Ivan was different. He got <em>really fucking cold</em>.</p><p>Alfred shivered from where he was pressed against the demon's front. He had been shivering for the past three days, and Ivan was only starting to feel slightly less like a glacier now. At first he had tried to wrap his arms around Ivan, but Braginsky was so damn cold that Alfred had finally just curled up into a small ball and draped the other's limbs around him.</p><p>Alfred couldn't regulate his body temperature—he couldn't turn cold on command like Ivan could—but he knew that he tended to radiate a lot of body heat.</p><p>Ivan needed to warm up, or all the magic and time that Alfred had spent healing the bastard would have been wasted.</p><p>The wounds had been horrific. If Alfred had shown up any later, he would have been trying to revive a corpse, and while Alfred's magic was powerful, it wasn't <em>that </em>powerful.</p><p>It had already taken a lot out of him to do what he had done. Healing magic was different from the kind of magic that he used for battle; the latter came easily to Alfred, but healing required a special finesse and delicacy that he had never quite gotten the hang of. Mattie had been better at it.</p><p>Mattie wasn't here, though. Alfred thanked the gods that he wasn't.</p><p>He ran a careful hand down the long, pale scars across Ivan's chest. Ivan had lost a lot of blood, fighting the Manticore. Alfred had injected his Light magic into Ivan's veins until the demon's heart was pulsating with warm, liquid power. Arthur told him once that it was dangerous and an enormous drain to condense magic like that, to force it to take a form that it was not meant to, but Alfred didn't exactly have other options available. Ivan would have died before he could get the blood transfusion.</p><p>Arthur was right, as always: Alfred had almost passed out from exhaustion afterwards. Ivan's body hadn't rejected Alfred's magic, so that was good, at least.</p><p>The gashes were closed off and sealed; the skin had knit together quickly, no doubt aided by the healing magic. Some of Ivan's other, older scars had faded, too, although the ones around his neck remained.</p><p>Alfred sighed and tucked the cloak tighter around them.</p><p>Here he was, saving the life of his demonic master.</p><p>Alfred didn't even know why he was doing this. Maybe some of Braginsky's crazy rubbed off on him. Honestly, if someone told Alfred a few weeks ago that he'd be cuddled up to his long-time rival and arch-nemesis, sharing body heat, Alfred would have fallen over laughing and asked for the punchline.</p><p>Alfred traced his fingers along the lines of Ivan's face. The Light magic had filled it out a bit, but the hollows of his cheekbones were still prominent. The demon was completely defenseless.</p><p>Gods, it would be <em>so easy</em> to kill Ivan right now.</p><p>Alfred had all the power. It would take but a single second—Alfred just had to snap his fingers.</p><p>One quick snap, and that would be it.</p><p>Alfred would be free.</p><p>…And then what?</p><p>After Alfred killed Ivan, he'd escape from the camp, shoot Berwald and the other demons if they tried to stop him, maybe steal a pegasus. He'd look for a portal back to Heaven and return to his life as a general.</p><p>It would be different from before his capture, for sure. They had lost a lot of soldiers to the Dark army, and a lot of ground. He'd go find Mattie and stick close, get a chance to regroup and figure stuff out, take a look at the budget and see if anything were salvageable.</p><p>When things were no longer on the brink of collapse, maybe he'd try to rescue the other angel generals. Last he'd heard, Lovino was with Antonio and Feliciano was with Ludwig. Arthur was more or less a lost cause, because of the whole halo situation.</p><p>It'd be hard—the demons wouldn't willingly let their captives go. Alfred might have to kill them. He hesitated for a second at the thought. Cheerful Antonio had been nice enough to him during his nights at the palace, and even though Ludwig was stern and into some real kinky shit, he was pretty fun to talk engineering with, once he opened up.</p><p>Francis would send Arthur after him, like he did last time. Alfred didn't want to use heavy artillery against Arthur, but there was no way that he could beat the older angel in close combat.</p><p>And that was just on the military side—not even the other stuff.</p><p>He had bitched at Ivan for being a workaholic, but Alfred had been swamped with work, too, back in Heaven. Drafting new economic policies, developing better tech to keep the cities in Heaven running smoothly, always heading somewhere to put out fires.</p><p>Heaven was probably in shambles by now. The economy was most likely in ruins, and all of the advanced systems that Alfred had rigged up would need to be maintained and updated. There would be a lot of troubleshooting involved, a lot of late nights reallocating resources and managing what little remained.</p><p>His schedule in the Underworld was much more lax, in comparison. And, okay, yeah, a life of taking it up the ass and being bored out of his mind wasn't exactly great, but there had been <em>some</em> bright spots, like Blini and strawberries and the planetarium and CoD. He used to play video games with Davie every spare second of break that he got from work, not that there had been many. Davie had been the best gaming buddy <em>ever</em>.</p><p>…Even if he went back, Davie would still be dead. Alfred would still have those horrible nightmares that made him break out in cold sweat, and there wouldn't be anyone to hold him through them. Emma had been there, back at Francis' palace, and Lucille. He vaguely remembered Ivan's firm, cool arms around him the other night, the rhythmic stroking of his hair, the soothing murmurs.</p><p>Alfred slumped against the demon's chest.</p><p>His stomach growled. The angel curled up tighter as a pang of hunger hit him hard. Using so much magic took a ton out of him, and he hadn't eaten in days.</p><p>He was <em>starving</em>. A little fruit was fine, when his powers were restrained. With the enchanted bands off, he needed a lot more fuel. His magic sped up his metabolism to the point where he had to eat an atrocious amount to function.</p><p>A burger sounded <em>so</em> good right now…</p><p>Suddenly drowsy, the golden blond yawned and put his ear to Ivan's chest to see if his heartbeat had gotten any stronger. It had; so Alfred closed his eyes and drifted off into dreams of weekends spent playing video games with Davie.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan woke up to an unfamiliar warmth coursing through his bloodstream and a sleeping angel in his arms.</p><p>He was cocooned in something fluffy. Ivan shifted slightly—a dull ache spread across his chest—and felt strands of fur brush against his sides.</p><p>...Alfred's rabbit cloak?</p><p>Brow furrowing in concentration, the demon tried to recall what happened. He remembered thinking that it would be fine. He and his men had been battling one Manticore and were doing fairly well, before the other one had shown up out of nowhere and everything fell into chaos.</p><p>He remembered feeling very, very cold, and a sensation of floating in a void. Darkness everywhere he could see, then an abrupt, all-consuming flash of bright light—</p><p>The light… where had that been from? All he knew was that something had changed afterwards. The darkness had not seemed so cold.</p><p>Ivan looked around the tent. There was a strange blurriness to his surroundings, as if a veil were obscuring things.</p><p>Perhaps the blurriness was due to how much blood he had lost, and there had been a lot—he remembered the lightheadedness, the moment when he realized that he was not going to make it out alive.</p><p>And yet here he was, warm and very much breathing, the heart in his scarred chest keeping tempo with each inhale and exhale.</p><p>He turned to the golden blond nestled up against him. What was Alfred doing here? Alfred should be back at the castle, with Blini.</p><p>The angel twitched in his sleep.</p><p>"Fredka," Ivan said, gently jostling the other. "Wake up."</p><p>Alfred slowly blinked his sapphire eyes open. He looked at Ivan for a minute, as if unsure of what he was seeing. Then his gaze sharpened.</p><p>The force of the punch knocked the air out of Ivan's lungs. Had Alfred always been that strong? Stunned, the demon brought a hand to his abdomen. A bruise was forming.</p><p>"Braginsky, you are a complete idiot." Alfred's voice was eerily calm. "You brought so few soldiers on the campaign—do you have a death wish? Did you even read the reports? A toddler who had just finished his first picture book could have told you that there was more than one Manticore."</p><p>"Alfred—" Ivan tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit him and he jerked to the side.</p><p>The blue-eyed blond pushed the demon back down. "Don't move. I'm going to get some food." Alfred swung his legs off the cot and left the tent.</p>
<hr/><p>Alfred tried to ignore the hostile stares of the soldiers in the mess tent, but the way that they crowded around the serving trays, not letting him through, was getting <em>really </em>annoying. He huffed in frustration as another demon bodily blocked him from grabbing a clean plate.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred saw a tall figure in the shadows a few feet away.</p><p>"Ivan's awake. He needs to eat."</p><p>Ivan's second-in-command glared at him—had the guy ever cracked a smile in his life? He looked like he had been born with a grudge against the world—and nodded curtly in the direction of the trays.</p><p>The soldiers parted instantly around the table. Alfred snatched a plate and spooned some kasha on it. Ivan would need something bland that was easy to keep down, and some protein. The angel stabbed a sausage and added it onto the plate along with some eggs.</p><p>There were apples and plums at the end of the table…</p><p>Alfred gave them a longing glance—he was so hungry—but turned to head back to the medic tent with Ivan's plate and some cutlery. He wouldn't take a damn thing from these demon soldiers.</p><p>Prisoner or not, Alfred still had <em>some</em> measure of pride.</p>
<hr/><p>"Can't believe I'm doing this," the golden blond grumbled as he brought a spoonful of porridge to Ivan's parted lips. "This is so stupid. You're so stupid."</p><p>Ivan swallowed the kasha, then lifted his right arm experimentally. He winced.</p><p>"Don't do that!" Alfred scolded. "Ugh, you're so dumb."</p><p>Ivan smiled helplessly. "Sorry, Fredka."</p><p>Alfred shook his head. Ivan was still calling him by that silly nickname.</p><p>"Absolutely ridiculous," Alfred muttered. "If the other angels ever found out about me playing nursemaid to <em>Braginsky</em>, they'd laugh me out of Heaven. They'd never let me live it down. I could never show my face there again." He finished cutting the sausage into small, neat bites. "Open up, bastard."</p><p>Chuckling, Ivan obliged.</p>
<hr/><p>When Ivan woke up again, feeling refreshed and well-rested, it was almost dawn. He had slept through the day and much of the night.</p><p>Alfred was knocked out. The golden blond must have gotten up sometime in the night. He had dozed off in Ivan's lap, but now he was sprawled out on top of Ivan, head tucked under the demon's jaw.</p><p>Ivan tried to bring his arms around Alfred's waist—the angel was nice and warm, and he was feeling a bit chilly—and accidentally bumped the other's hip. Alfred stirred, then cracked open a cerulean eye.</p><p>"Morning," he yawned. The tips of Alfred's wings fluttered. He gave Ivan a tired little smile.</p><p>Ivan couldn't resist; he leaned down and pecked Alfred on the forehead.</p><p>The angel immediately wiped it off, grimacing. He got up and perched on the edge of the cot.</p><p>"You seem like you're better," Alfred said drily. "You okay to feed yourself now?"</p><p>"…My shoulder still hurts."</p><p>Mumbling curses under his breath, Alfred departed for the mess tent.</p>
<hr/><p>"You're not eating."</p><p>"Ivan, in case you haven't noticed, we're in a creepy-ass forest. I'm not eating anything I find here."</p><p>"The soldiers packed fruit for the journey. I haven't seen you eat anything since I woke up."</p><p>"I eat when you're asleep. Shut up and finish your porridge." Ivan frowned as the angel fed him another spoonful. Alfred was lying. Ivan hadn't missed the way that Alfred wobbled slightly as he got up that morning.</p><p>"We're returning to the castle today," Ivan decided. He'd tell Toris to go to the human world for some strawberries. Hopefully there were cherries to be had at the market. Alfred wasn't taking care of himself again, for whatever reason.</p><p>The skepticism was clear in Alfred's eyes. "Are you feeling well enough to travel?"</p><p>Ivan nodded. "Tell Berwald to break camp after breakfast."</p><p>"Okay," Alfred shrugged. He collected the used silverware and stacked the empty dishes on a tray. Ivan followed the movement of the angel's hands absentmindedly.</p><p>His heart skipped a beat, then two.</p><p>"Alfred," the demon forced his voice to remain even, controlled, "where are your bracelets?"</p><p>Alfred looked uncomfortable. "You took them off when I healed you."</p><p>Ivan took a steadying breath. How in Tartarus had he not noticed that Alfred's powers hadn't been restrained the past few days? The odd blurriness at the edges of his vision must have been a manifestation of the angel's Light magic, perhaps a barrier of some sort. And the warm energy flowing through his arteries, the stronger-than-usual scent of apricot and cardamom, how much Alfred's punch had hurt—</p><p>He was a careless, oblivious <em>fool</em>. If Alfred destroyed him with a flick of his wrist at that moment, Ivan would have deserved it.</p><p>Alfred hadn't yet, though. The Dark general didn't know why.</p><p>"Fredka," Ivan said gently, knowing full well that there wasn't a damn thing he could do except pray that Alfred felt obedient, felt merciful, felt—unbidden, the memory of Alfred's empty eyes when they had sex the other night—<em>something</em> towards him that wasn't pure hate. "Could you please give them to me?"</p><p>For a horrible second, Alfred didn't move.</p><p>Flashbacks of the war raced through Ivan's mind—Alfred, pupils glowing white, hand outstretched as he aimed the endless line of conjured submachine guns at Ivan's men, the dull thuds as the lethal divine bullets found their marks, the spray of blood that drenched Ivan's coat, ran off in rivulets down his boots—</p><p>Avoiding Ivan's eyes, Alfred wordlessly reached under the pillow, brought out the pair of enchanted bands, and dropped them into the demon's lap. He held out his hands.</p><p>Ivan slipped and secured the bracelets around the angel's wrists. His fingers shook. One tap, and they shrank to fit their wearer snugly.</p><p>Ivan drew the golden blond close.</p><p>"Let's go back home," he whispered into the silky locks, drinking in the sweet, fresh scent reminiscent of sunshine and sunflowers.</p><p>Alfred's gaze was distant; he didn't respond.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A revelation shakes Alfred to his core. Ivan picks up the pieces. A giving and a taking, and the morning afterward.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alfred nibbled at a strawberry as he stroked Blini behind the ears, the cat purring away contentedly on the angel's lap. There was a bowl of fruit—cherries, grapes, plums, three different kinds of berries—on the low table next to the settee. Alfred picked out the strawberries, a few cherries, and ignored the rest. If he felt hungry later, he'd eat what was left.</p><p>The trip back to the castle had been quiet. Alfred rode the white pegasus that he had stolen. Beside him, on Ladya, Ivan had looked somber. The other demons had given him a wide berth. Alfred knew that they didn't trust him. They talked about him behind his back—<em>murderer</em>, <em>monster</em>, <em>whore</em>—and made no secret of it.</p><p>Whatever. Like he cared.</p><p>Alfred stretched his arms upwards. Blini batted at his leg with sharp claws. With a huff, he lowered a hand down to her ears again. He loved Blini, but she could be so demanding sometimes.</p><p>Alfred laid his head down on the arm of the settee and propped his legs up.</p><p>During the war, he had killed a lot of demons. He had killed them without mercy, without sparing so much as a moment's thought. His bullets had torn through flesh as easily as if they were ripping through a piece of paper. His guns had fired volley after infinite volley at his command.</p><p>Ivan's life would have been easy to take. Laughably easy. The Dark soldiers who fell under his gunfire had brandished weapons, worn layers of armor; they had been animated and made desperate by their desire to live a little longer. If Alfred had been closer, he might have seen the hard twist of their mouth, the frightened whites of their eyes.</p><p>Instead, Alfred had just felt the general miasma of fear and dread, potent enough to drift across no man's land to the Light encampment. They feared him, the demon forces. They feared him the same way that humans were afraid of earthquakes or tsunamis or tornadoes. They feared him with the same animalistic hatred that small things always reserved for something that they couldn't touch. He would annihilate them and leave the battlefield and have dinner and wake up the next day and drink his coffee and repeat the process ad nauseam.</p><p>There wouldn't be a single scratch on him.</p><p>The other angels, the rest of Heaven, had <em>adored</em> him for it. They had loved him for crushing their enemies and making it look effortless, had praised Alfred for doing his job so well. That had made him feel proud of himself: it was his duty and what he had been trained to do. He was good at it. They called Alfred a hero. They had called him a hero because of how he had destroyed the Dark side's army and capacity to hope in one fell swoop.</p><p>It was all very efficient. Heaven approved of efficiency.</p><p>Back in the forest, Alfred could have killed Ivan efficiently, cleanly. A snap, and Ivan would have crumbled into dust. His magic could do that. Alfred could have killed Ivan, and it would have been the easiest, cleanest thing in the world. Then he would have returned to Heaven and the war and kept on killing like it was the easiest, cleanest thing in the world.</p><p>Alfred wouldn't be on the settee, petting Blini and eating his favorite fruit, if he had killed Ivan.</p><p>He snagged another strawberry and thoughtfully bit into it. If he had killed Ivan, there would have been no more Ivan in his life. He wouldn't have had to fuck Ivan every night that Ivan wanted to fuck him, and he wouldn't be cooped up in the castle when he didn't want to be.</p><p>There would have been an Ivan-shaped void in his life. That would have been nice—an Ivan-shaped void meant there was more space for Alfred to fill with other things, Alfred-things—but the Ivan-shaped void also looked like no more impromptu trips to the human world to stargaze. No more planetarium shows, no more afternoons spent thrashing other players in Call of Duty.</p><p>No one to hold him when Alfred had a nightmare, no one to tell him that it would be okay.</p><p>Maybe Alfred could kidnap Emma and bring her back to Heaven with him? Lucille wouldn't go, she'd chide him for being silly. But Emma also had her own life, her own little joys and hopes in her life at the palace. It would be very selfish of Alfred to take Emma away from that, and Alfred couldn't imagine making Emma unhappy.</p><p>Hm.</p><p>Back in Heaven, the angels had always said that demons were incapable of any genuine feeling besides animalistic fear and rage, and that was why it was right and just for Alfred to do what he did during the war. The demons were nothing but wild beasts, and so Alfred slaughtered them like one would slaughter wild beasts.</p><p>Emma had felt a lot of things, though. She had missed her brother and worried for him, and loved Alfred like a sister to make the Lars-shaped void in her life feel a little smaller. Lucille… was Lucille, all practicality and sensible advice. Alfred knew that she cared about him even if she hadn't shown it the same way that Emma had.</p><p>But they had been civilians. Civilians were different.</p><p>Ivan knew that. He and his men went ahead and massacred the angel village, nonetheless.</p><p>Ivan, who was in the military and one of the highest-ranking generals besides, felt a lot of things, too. He had been sad after the Manticore attack had killed a hundred of his men, and happier after Alfred dragged him down for the picnic in the sunflower garden. He had been sad again after the recent campaign, maybe because he had made a stupid decision and people had been hurt for it.</p><p>Was that why Alfred had saved his life, instead of ended it?</p><p>Alfred's duty was to Heaven. He was raised to serve as a Light general. He knew this—it had been taught to him since he was very young. Alfred had been selected and cultivated for the role. Alfred should have taken the first opportunity that he had to escape.</p><p>Instead, he had chosen to stay in the Underworld as Ivan's captive.</p><p>If Heaven found out, they would be very disappointed in him. Ivan wasn't worth Heaven's disappointment, especially since Ivan had been a monster like Alfred during the war—Alfred remembered the innocent angel village again, and a wave of nausea welled up—so why…?</p><p>The door to the lounge opened, and the Dark general trudged in. He looked as if he were going to head for the cellarette where the vodka was kept, but then he saw Alfred peering at him and walked over to the settee.</p><p>Alfred tucked his legs under him, jostling Blini, who meowed. <em>I require advance warning next time, Servant</em>. Ivan drooped into the space that Alfred had made.</p><p>Alfred gnawed at his lip. Ivan looked exhausted and miserable.</p><p>He nudged Blini away. The cat threw him an indignant look and padded out of the lounge, tail high in the air.</p><p>"Come here," Alfred said. He patted his lap.</p><p>Ivan stared at him with surprised violet eyes. Then, very cautiously, as if he were scared that it was a joke or that Alfred would hit him, he set his head in Alfred's lap.</p><p>The angel threaded his fingers through Ivan's platinum hair. It was like petting a bunny. "Hey," he said softly, "don't be so hard on yourself. What happened with the Manticores sucked, but the losses weren't as bad as they could have been." Alfred traced the downward spiral of a glossy horn with the pad of his index finger.</p><p>Ivan nodded. A tear slipped down his cheek anyway.</p><p>Without speaking, Alfred swiped it away with his thumb and clutched Ivan's head to his chest.</p>
<hr/><p>They stayed on the settee until Toris arrived with dinner. Then they ate quietly, avoiding each other's eyes.</p><p>When the food was gone, Alfred made himself small on the settee. Ivan stayed at the dining table, looking pensive and troubled.</p><p>"Ivan—"</p><p>"Alfred—"</p><p>They stopped. Ivan smiled faintly.</p><p>"You first, Fredka."</p><p>"Um, are you feeling better?"</p><p>"Da. Thank you."</p><p>Alfred hummed.</p><p>"Alfred, why did you heal me back in the forest?"</p><p>The angel shifted, uncomfortable. He didn't really want to talk about this, but Ivan's eyes were searching, confused and a little afraid.</p><p>Ivan looked like he really wanted an answer. He looked like he thought that the answer would make something important clear to him.</p><p>Ivan… looked like his heart might break if Alfred gave him the wrong answer.</p><p>Ah, Heavens above, Alfred did not want to be having this conversation right now. Still, he opened his mouth.</p><p>"You... haven't been terrible to me," Alfred fumbled for the right words. "And I don't <em>hate</em> being here, I guess, even though there's nothing to do and you live like you're stuck in Imperial Russia.</p><p>"And I guess that I don't hate <em>you</em> completely, either, despite the fact that you massacred everyone in that village—"</p><p>"Wait," Ivan interrupted. "<em>What?"</em></p><p>Alfred scowled. "Don't play innocent, Braginsky. You know what I'm talking about. During the war, there was a village of angel civilians near the battlefront, mostly women and children. We were supposed to transport them to another of Heaven's cities, where they'd be safe. When we got there, the village was deserted. No one was there. You and your men killed all of them. How the fuck could you forget <em>that</em>?"</p><p>Ivan looked very tired as he sat back in the chair. "We wouldn't have done that," he said. "We wouldn't have murdered civilians in cold blood. Representatives from the village approached the demon camp at night. They requested that some of our soldiers escort them to the human world. The residents wanted to go to the human world to begin new lives, lives that weren't touched by the war.</p><p>"We were reluctant at first—we didn't have many men to spare—but they said that Heaven wouldn't take kindly to their leaving. The angels would have seen their departure as an act of betrayal.</p><p>"They had heard that demons tended to be more lax about going to the human realm, so they thought that they would ask us instead. After they explained the situation to me, I assented to the request. We escorted them to a portal that connected to the human world—Alaska, as I recall—and they went through it."</p><p>Alfred looked stricken.</p><p>Ivan shot forward, alarmed, as the angel burst into tears.</p><p>"Fredka?" The demon moved to the settee.</p><p>"Fredka, dorogoy, what's wrong?"</p><p>Alfred swallowed, hard, and made to bury his face into the velvet fabric of the settee, but Ivan was faster—strong fingers were already gripping his cheek and turning Alfred to meet concerned amethyst eyes.</p><p>Alfred shook his head; he tried to turn away, again, tried to hide so that Ivan couldn't see as his body betrayed his weakness, but Ivan held fast. He promised himself that he wouldn't cry in front of Braginsky. Couldn't. But here Ivan was, watching him cry like a small child.</p><p>"<em>Alfred</em>."</p><p>"I—"</p><p>He was full-out sobbing now. <em>How pathetic</em>. "I thought, the whole time, that you killed them," he hiccupped.</p><p>Ivan didn't say anything as he plucked a silk handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed at the wetness on Alfred's cheeks. His arms wrapped around the angel's waist.</p><p>Alfred shivered.</p><p>Braginsky was holding him as he cried. Braginsky was tending to him like he was a delicate flower as he sobbed out his heart. <em>Braginsky</em> was holding him as his world was rent asunder—the demons were <em>monsters</em>, like Alfred was, only apparently they <em>weren't</em>—and it was so comforting and good to be in Ivan's arms that Alfred felt sick, utterly disgusted with himself.</p><p>Gods, he was so fucked up.</p><p>Alfred felt a sudden vicious spike of hatred for the demon; Ivan dried another tear with his handkerchief, and the hate abruptly faded.</p><p>Alfred slumped forward in defeat.</p><p>He felt raw and vulnerable and exposed, like an eagle hatchling that broke free from its egg to see no mother, just the craggy surface of a tall cliff, a long drop down.</p><p>Alfred… really, <em>really </em>wanted to be held tonight. Ivan was holding him now, but Alfred knew that Ivan wouldn't hold him until he fell asleep, wouldn't hold him through the night. Ivan only held him like that after sex.</p><p>The sex probably wouldn't be very good—Alfred was too emotional for it—but Ivan hadn't fucked him in a while, not since leaving for the campaign, and Ivan had a pretty high sex drive. Maybe Ivan wouldn't mind. He probably wanted Alfred, anyway, even if Alfred was a sobbing wreck. Alfred knew that he was hot stuff; hadn't that been why Francis made him into a pleasure slave in the first place?</p><p>Sniffling quietly, he leaned up and kissed Ivan.</p><p>Ivan made a small, surprised sound.</p><p>"Fredka?"</p><p>Ivan broke away from the kiss, then tilted Alfred's chin and studied the angel's sapphire eyes.</p><p>"Fredka, do you <em>want</em> to sleep with me tonight?"</p><p>Alfred nodded wretchedly. He <em>did </em>want to sleep with Ivan—not in the way that Ivan meant, maybe, but Ivan didn't have to know that, and he wanted so badly to be held that it almost felt like a need.</p><p>Ivan bit at his lip. He couldn't tell what Alfred was thinking, but his eyes weren't dull and empty. They were glassy, shiny with tears. Alfred dropped his head.</p><p>"Fredka, I'm taking you to the bed, okay?"</p><p>Ivan heard a mumbled "yes." Cradling the angel to his chest, Ivan stood up.</p>
<hr/><p>No good. Alfred had fucked up <em>again</em>. What a shitty night. He had started crying as soon as Ivan set him down on the covers. He was in Ivan's lap, and the demon was patting his back.</p><p>"Fredka," Ivan was saying, "please talk to me. I cannot read your mind." He sounded worried.</p><p>Alfred took a deep, shuddering breath. <em>In. Out. </em>He couldn't get much lower than this. "I thought that you and the other demons were heartless murderers." His voice quavered. "I killed monsters. That was why I was a hero in Heaven. Heroes kill monsters."</p><p>Alfred stared, unblinking, at the tear splotches on the cream sheets. "But I'm not a hero. I'm a monster. This whole time, the only monster was me."</p><p>"Don't say that."</p><p>Alfred turned his head. "What?"</p><p>One of Ivan's large hands cupped his cheek. "You are no monster. You saved my life, Alfred." The demon tenderly kissed Alfred's forehead. "You are my hero."</p><p>Alfred nestled his head into the crook of Ivan's neck. Ivan's scarf smelled like chamomile and pine.</p><p>"…Really?"</p><p>"Da, lapochka."</p><p>Alfred nuzzled into the fabric. "What are those things that you keep calling me?"</p><p>"They are terms of endearment, like Fredka. 'Dorogoy' is darling and 'lapochka' means sweetheart."</p><p>Alfred hummed as he processed the information, then brought up a hand to Ivan's scarf.</p><p>"Can I?"</p><p>"Whatever you want."</p><p>Alfred unwound the tan cloth, folded it neatly, and placed it on the nightstand alongside his glasses. He grazed the scars on Ivan's neck with the tips of his fingers. They didn't <em>look</em> like bullet wounds, but…</p><p>"From the war?" <em>From me?</em></p><p>"No, Fredka, they were from when I was very young."</p><p>Alfred relaxed. He brought his mouth closer and licked along a thin, textured line.</p><p>Ivan groaned. Alfred could feel something pressing against his thighs.</p><p>The golden blond drew back.</p><p>"Really?" He asked, amused. "Is that why you never wanted me to touch them?"</p><p>There was a definite blush on Ivan's pale skin. "They're very sensitive."</p><p>"Just like my cowlick," Alfred decided, "I like them. They look cool." He ran his tongue down another.</p><p>"<em>Alfred</em>…"</p><p>The angel pulled away and grabbed the bottle of warming oil from the nightstand. He shoved Ivan down on the bed, undressing the demon, then expertly worked himself open with three fingers. He prayed that it was enough, Ivan was huge and it had been a while. He should really have done this earlier—he had to <em>always </em>be prepared, Emma had told him—but it didn't look like Ivan minded. The demon's eyes were dark with lust and hunger as Alfred dripped oil on his cock.</p><p>Forcing a smile, Alfred shimmied up the chiseled torso and lowered himself onto Ivan's slick erection. A whine escaped his lips as Ivan entered him.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>. He messed up. He hadn't stretched himself enough. This was too fast. Alfred ducked his head so that Ivan couldn't see his face. The sooner that he got Ivan to orgasm, the sooner Ivan would gather Alfred in his arms.</p><p>It would be over soon, and then Alfred would be held. He'd just have to endure a little longer.</p><p>Alfred closed his eyes, concentrating as he tried to find the right angle to feel a spark of pleasure. <em>What was taking so long? </em>He usually found it in a few seconds.</p><p>Alfred hissed in frustration.</p><p>"S-sorry, Ivan, give me a minute."</p><p>"Nyet."</p><p>Alfred's eyes cracked open. "Master?" He asked uncertainly.</p><p>Ivan was frowning at him. Alfred's heart sank. Would Ivan send him away? Tell him to leave the bed?</p><p>No.</p><p>It was worse.</p><p>"Let me take care of you tonight, Fredka." He grasped Alfred's wrists in one hand and carefully—he was still in Alfred—flipped their positions.</p><p>The angel's sapphire eyes widened. He had taken too long; Ivan had gotten impatient. Now Alfred was paying the price.</p><p>"I'll make you feel good."</p><p>Alfred trembled underneath him.</p><p>"I promise I won't hurt you, Alfred." Long, cool fingers brushed back the golden blond's bangs. "Tell me what to do. I'll listen."</p><p>Panic continued to bloom in Alfred's eyes. He struggled briefly, and when it became evident that Ivan wouldn't let go, he froze, as taut as a violin string.</p><p>Ivan saw the tears trickling down Alfred's face and inwardly swore. He slipped out of Alfred.</p><p>Alfred was scared. Ivan had made him that way. Everyone froze with dread and terror the moment that they saw Ivan. Everyone looked at Ivan as if they were looking at something inhuman, a monster.</p><p>…Everyone except for Alfred. Alfred was the only person who had never feared him, who gave as good as he got. When Ivan was on the edge of death, Alfred had brought him back. He had been weak and helpless and Alfred had treated his wounds with care. Alfred had patiently fed him and warmed him with his own body heat, even though Ivan must have been so, <em>so </em>cold to touch.</p><p>Alfred had been kind and sweet to him, when all Ivan had shown him was cruelty and violence. What were a mere trip to the human world and a handful of distractions to Ivan's brutal rapes and beatings? Alfred hated him, and Ivan deserved it. He hated <em>himself</em>.</p><p>Ivan released Alfred's wrists. Alfred didn't move from where he was underneath the demon, didn't try to get away.</p><p>Without his magic and his strength and his sword, Alfred had nothing that he could use to defend himself against Ivan. He was utterly powerless.</p><p>So Ivan bent his head to Alfred's ear and said—softly, sincerely—"<em>I'm sorry</em>." He hoped that Alfred knew what he meant in all that he had left unspoken.</p><p>The angel tensed. He was still crying silently, but his eyes were wide and unseeing, now. He looked like a rabbit who had noticed a fox, and who had noticed it far too late.</p><p>Then, to Ivan's complete amazement, Alfred reached for his hand and put it on top of his head.</p><p>"I, um, I like having my hair pulled. Not too hard," Alfred whispered. "And you know about the cowlick. Again," he glared half-heartedly at Ivan, "<em>not too hard</em>." He let Ivan thread his hair between his fingers.</p><p>Ivan would hold him after this. Ivan had to, or else Alfred would have given up everything for nothing.</p><p>Ivan nodded and gently tugged. Alfred whimpered.</p><p>"…Behind my ears and just above my neck. I like being touched there."</p><p>"All right, dorogoy," Ivan murmured. He shifted until he was hovering over Alfred. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his cheek to the pillow.</p><p>Ivan followed Alfred's hushed directions as he made his way down the angel's body. He daintily lapped at a collarbone and was rewarded with a moan. He rolled a pert nipple between his fingers, dragged his tongue down Alfred's toned abdomen, swirled a wet circle around his navel, licked a stripe up Alfred's cock. The angel—flushed, sun-kissed skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat—writhed under him, mewling deliciously.</p><p>Enjoying how vocal Alfred was—ah, he had been quiet all the times they've had sex before, Ivan had missed out on so <em>much</em>—Ivan took his time taking the exquisite creature under him apart.</p><p>"You're beautiful," Ivan breathed into the side of Alfred's hip.</p><p>Alfred's eyes flashed. "<em>Braginsky</em>," he snapped. "If you don't fuck me <em>right now</em>, I will rip your balls off."</p><p>Ivan chuckled. There had been no vitriol in Alfred's voice, only urgency. "Da, da, lapochka."</p><p>He slid in to the hilt, and Alfred sighed. The angel draped his slender arms around Ivan's shoulders.</p><p>"A-ah, Ivan…"</p><p>The demon thrust into him. A jolt of pleasure shot up his spine. Alfred saw stars; his toes curled. He tossed his head back with a sharp gasp.</p><p>Ivan's amethyst eyes, hooded and dark, glinted. "Found it," he crooned. He effortlessly picked Alfred up so that the angel was seated in his lap, and started to fuck Alfred in earnest.</p><p>Breathless and boneless, Alfred buried his face in Ivan's chest and let Ivan do to him as he wished. When the sensations finally got to be too much—he was hot and sticky and Ivan's hands on him were cool and firm and Ivan's cock was so large and <em>deep </em>inside Alfred as it struck his prostate that the feeling of fullness was overwhelming—he came with a hoarse cry and clamped down. Not a second later, the demon released into him with a low grunt.</p><p>Alfred's head lolled as Ivan carefully set him back down on the bed and tucked the sheets in around them. Alfred felt lightheaded and loose-limbed; he felt good.</p><p>He felt better when Ivan's arms wrapped around him. Mm, this was what he wanted. To be safe, to be protected, to be held. Alfred melted into the embrace. Ivan made him feel safe and good. He was Ivan's hero, and tonight, that was all that mattered.</p><p>"Thank you, Ivan," he mumbled into the hollow of the demon's collarbone.</p><p>"…Vanya."</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>Ivan's arms wrapped tighter around him. A soft, content sound left Alfred's throat.</p><p>"Call me Vanya, Fredka."</p><p>"Oh, your nickname thing." Alfred yawned. "Sure. Vanya." His eyelids were getting heavy, and he was well-fucked and drowsy. Alfred saw no reason to be awake any longer.</p><p>He fell asleep to the steady thumping of Ivan's heart.</p><p>Sweetly enveloped in the scent of apricots, cardamom, and summer, Ivan smiled and closed his eyes.</p>
<hr/><p>Ivan awoke to a clear day and a chill by his side. For a second, he felt fear, raw and primal—last night must have been a dream, there was no possible way that it had been real, <em>Alfred</em>—</p><p>Then he saw the angel sprawled out on the other side of the bed, and the fear dissipated. Alfred must have gotten overheated during the night; the sheets were pooled around him, and his golden limbs were everywhere.</p><p>Ivan watched the angel peacefully slumber. His long, curling lashes fluttered against his cheeks with every exhale. There was a fine dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose.</p><p>Gilded in sunlight, Alfred was a vision, radiant and ethereal.</p><p>Ivan's heart quickened.</p><p>He had been no match for Alfred on the battlefield; he was no match for Alfred in his own bed.</p><p>Last night, Alfred had heard Ivan's foolish, desperate request. If, gods forbid, he had listened, if he decided to humor Ivan in the morning and call him by the name that no one except his sister had used in decades—no one else had been close to him; no one else had loved him—Ivan would be ruined. Undone. Alfred would have destroyed every defense he had, and Ivan would have lost the fiercest battle of his life to the loveliest opponent he ever had.</p><p>Alfred stirred and stretched, arching his back. Ivan swallowed painfully.</p><p>The angel blinked when he saw Ivan staring at him, lavender depths unreadable. Last night had been good, really good.</p><p>Ivan was still here in the morning.</p><p>He seemed like he was waiting for Alfred to do something, so Alfred grinned—sapphire eyes bright and sparkling—and flopped across the demon's lap.</p><p>"Morning, Vanya!"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to everyone for sticking it out, and I hope that you’ll stay along for rest of Sunflower Solstice! The boys still have a loooong way to go (mostly ‘cause Alfred is such a dumb cinnamon roll). </p><p>Updates probably won’t be as fast or consistent from now on, but my ask box is open on tumblr, and I’m happy to chat about headcanons for this verse, ideas for future fics, plot points, that kind of thing.</p><p>As always, comments and kudos feed my soul, and if OC inspires you to make some fan art, please share it with me! Nothing makes my day like fan art. <em>Nothing.</em></p><p>A bit of the writing playlist for Sunflower Solstice:<br/>- AURORA - Animal (on repeat for this last chapter), Exist for Love<br/>- Florence + the Machine - Hiding, Make Up Your Mind, Pure Feeling, Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)<br/>- Gabrielle Aplin - Waking Up Slow (the lyric video!)<br/>- so. much. Lana - American (of course lmao), Cinnamon Girl, Dark Paradise, Off to the Races, Serial Killer</p>
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